


Between Darkness and Light: Chains of a Dagger

by GoldenChippedCup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Romance, Woobie!Rum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenChippedCup/pseuds/GoldenChippedCup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, a dark enchantress began enslaving men by cursing them and binding their souls to daggers which rob them of their free will. Deciding to monopolize on her cursed ‘Dark Ones’ she begins a lucrative business, selling these men to anyone who will pay her price.<br/>In a futuristic Enchanted Forest, Lady Belle of the Marchlands, daughter of the current Regent, is convinced by her friends to finally buy a ‘Dark One’ of her own. She is dubious of owning another human being, and not entirely certain she wants to purchase a slave, but everything changes when she first lays eyes on the broken soul that is Rumplestiltskin. Can she help a man who has been bound by servitude since he was a boy, and had his heart trampled on numerous times in his life? Can Rumple learn to trust again, an open up his heart enough to find True Love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Rumbelle i've ever published, and my first fic on AO3. I'm very excited. I can't promise to be an on the money every week updater, but i'll do my best. I have most of the story plotted out, and i'm just going about polishing and adding details. I do hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

_Black magic whirled in a cloud above her, as she stood over his quivering form. He let out a choking gasp, and clutched at the hem of her tattered dress._

_“Please. Have…mercy.” He begged, blood bubbling from his lips as he spoke._

_She sneered down at him. “You can’t even die with dignity. Pathetic.” She kicked his hand away, and he winced, and curled into a ball. “When did you ever grace me with mercy? When you were beating me for your amusement? Or working my fingers to the bones? Or maybe when you were forcing your vile attentions on me? Never. Not once.” She clenched her fists, and scowled at him. “And you have the gall to beg me for mercy!?” Rage seethed through her, and with just a thought, he was once more screaming in agony, his body going rigid and contorting in awkward angles._

_She turned away from him, her disgust reaching its limit._

_The manor was empty now…the rest of its occupants had fled, when she’d finally lost it this evening and unleashed her terrible vengeance on her ‘master.’_

_For more years than she could count, she’d suffered at his hand. Her miserable wretch of a father had sold her to her ‘master’ at the age of fourteen, to pay his gambling debts._

_Since then, she’d spent her life in one miserable cycle…warming the master’s bed at night, prey to his sick sexual needs, and spending her days slaving away, and when he was in a particular mood, locked in his ‘game room.’_

_The horrors she’d endured in that room…if she lived a thousand years, she’d never stop seeing his cruel, fat face, twisted in glee, as he tortured her._

_Speaking of which…_

_She summoned his favored torture tool from the game room, and felt the heavy weight of the blade settle in her hand._

_The Kris dagger’s hilt was wrapped in leather, its edges sharp and wicked, the gilded pattern carved into the steel…_

_How he loved the beat her bare backside with the flat of this dagger…sometimes he hit her so hard, the imprints from the gilded design would remain in her flesh for days afterwards…_

_And sometimes, he just liked to run its sharp edged over her thighs, belly, and back, making shallow cuts…enough to make her bleed, without killing her…_

_He liked to watch her bleed._

_She released him from the current spell, allowing his body to fall limp…he was barely conscious now, the pain overwhelming._

_She leaned over him, and held the blade within his sight._

_“Shall I slit your throat, master? Is that a fitting end for you?”_

_His panicked eyes flickered for a moment…but eventually, they slipped closed in resignation._

_“No.” She finally whispered, straightening again. “You are not deserving of such a…quick and painless end. You must suffer.” She purred._

_She slid the dagger through the waist of her skirt, and brought her hands up._

_Her master hadn’t planned on her having an affinity for magic. Nor had he planned on her stealing into his library, as often as she could over the past twenty years, secreting away every book on magic she could find…_

_For a simple country Baron, he had a surprising amount._

_He had been foolish. It had taken her some time…but she’d finally developed her abilities enough…finally learned enough…_

_Today he’d pushed her too far. He’d taken the last scrap of her dignity he would ever take._

_Today it ended._

_She turned away, and brought her hands up, calling forth her power, seeking heat and destruction._

_Flamed licked into existence, and she fed the ball of fire with her rage and her hatred._

_Then without even sparing him another glance, she flicked it at him, and walked away._

_The main doors of the manor burst open as she approached, and she paid little mind to the blood curdling screams that followed in her wake._

_She had a plan. A mission, so to speak._

_For too long, men had oppressed women…held them as inferior…treated them as chattel, breeding stock…bed warmers._

_Second class citizens._

_It was time to even the odds._

_“Oy, woman!”_

_She went stock still, and turned slowly, to see a man ride up on horseback._

_Her hands clenched, her fury raged once more._

_“The manor’s on fire! Did everyone escape!? Is the Baron safe!?” He demanded._

_The Master’s Head Steward…a large man, with large hands._

_Large hands that he used to beat his little wife with. And to pinch and prod and slap around other serving girls…her included._

_A man almost as cruel as the Master himself._

_A slow smile began to tick at the corner of her mouth._

_“Perfect.” She whispered._

_“What was that? Reul…I demand you tell me what’s going on, is the master safe!?” He jumped off his horse, and stormed towards her._

_She held out one hand…and crushed his windpipe, which sent him tumbling to his knees._

_She prowled around him like a vulture, eyeing him, while he clawed at his own throat, desperate for air._

_“Oh yes…you will do…very nicely.” She purred, honeying her tone._

_She let him breath, and he collapsed, sucking in large gulps of air._

_“I’m in need of a specimen for an…experiment, shall we say? I believe; Steward Ravier, that you will do very nicely.”_

_She knew he couldn’t speak. Not yet. She’d done too much damage to his vocal chords when she’d crushed his throat._

_That was ok. She didn’t require his consent._

_“Come, come. We mustn’t dally…much to be done, you know.” She glanced over her shoulder, to see her fire had raged, and now the entire manor was in flames._

_What was that drivel about revenge being best served cold?_

_Bringing out the dagger, she brought the blunt hilt of it down on top of the Steward’s head with force. He slumped face first into the dirt, and didn’t move._

_She had her work cut out for her. Her plan was rudimentary, at best. It would take time, and a great deal of magic. Experimentation. Trial and error._

_But the results…would be glorious._

_The world of men…would fall. Like the manor behind her, it would burn in a vengeful blaze._

_But from the ashes…a new world would rise._

_And she…she would be its engineer._

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

“Come along, Rumple…you’re dragging your feet again, laddie.”

The boy glanced up, wincing when he saw irritation cross his father’s face.

“Coming, papa.” He said softly, hunching his shoulders.

Malcolm glanced down at his boy…just past seven, but still so damn small, he looked maybe five or six at best. It was a shame the boy was so bright, even if he’d never had proper schooling…if he were a half-wit, Malcolm wouldn’t feel as bad about what he had planned for the lad.

He was never meant to be a father.

“Papa, where are we goin’?” Rumple asked, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

“I told you, lad. You’ll see when we get there. It’s a surprise.” He tried to inject a little bit of mystery and intrigue into his tone.

He couldn’t support the boy…could barely support himself. Free men were second class citizens as it was…they hardly received a decent wage, no matter what their skill level was…if you weren’t tied to a woman from a good family, or one who held a decent job, you could pretty much bet on fighting for every scrap you could get…

It was even worse for drifters such as he. He was riddled with nasty habits, like over-imbibing with the drink, and gambling and cheating his way through earning a coin or two to keep himself and the boy fed.

Most nights, they slept in alleyways.

He tried to tell himself that this was for Rumple’s own good. At least he’d have a roof over his head…maybe a few half-decent meals a day.

He tried not to think about what would become of the boy when he came of age.

It was easier that way.

By the Gods, he just wanted to be free of the responsibility of the boy.

Maybe if Rumple had been born a girl, his mother wouldn’t have abandoned them. Malcolm could have skipped off, and known at least that the bairn was safe with her mother.

He sighed, and scrubbed his face with his hands.

It had taken him months to finally talk himself into his decision. Even though he was a burden, he was still his flesh and blood…his progeny.

But this was no life for a boy.

Maybe when he came of age, and was bound to a dagger, he’d luck into finding himself a kind and decent mistress.

More than a few of them had. Some were even set free that way, and married their former mistresses, and lived much happier lives.

He shivered slightly, picturing those damn daggers in his head. Every Free Man lived in fear that one day, they would too face the Curse.

His steps slowed, as he finally stopped beside the central complex.

The Frontlands had the largest Dark One Inc. facility in the entire realm. There were several other depots throughout the realm, but they were much smaller. The Frontlands hosted the central hub…the very first Dark One compound, from when the business first began, over three hundred years ago.

It also played host to the company’s founder and overseer, the infamous Reul Ghorm herself.

He shivered again, and grit his teeth.

Reul Ghorm…or the Blue Fairy, as some called her mockingly…a powerful enchantress, who long ago bound the very first Dark One to a Kris dagger…binding his soul, and enslaving him. Whoever controlled the dagger, controlled the Dark One.

It wasn’t long before she began to amass a horde of dagger bound slaves…men everywhere trembled at the sound of her name…lived in fear of the day that they too, would be enslaved.

She only made slaves of men. Never women.

And then…she began her lucrative business. Selling her slaves to women, and even to some wealthy men who found a particular…taste, in male slaves.

Her power spread through the land. Women began to attain positions of power. It wasn’t long before the majority of the political power in the Enchanted Forest was held by women.

Some men still had political power to this day. Very rich men, who paid to retain their Free Man status and their positons of power…

But no one was fooled. Every man who held positions of power…even the King of Ulbany; one of the richest and largest kingdoms in the realm, the benevolent King Leopold, answered to Reul Ghorm in one way or another. Leopold had only become king when his mother had died, and he’d had no sisters to pass the throne too.

Dark Ones served in whatever purpose their mistresses; and in some cases, masters, desired. Many served as lovers, manual laborers, personal servants, companions, protectors. Some filled every aspect.

At first, it had been considered taboo…only the darkest souls consented to owning a slave who was completely bound to their will…

It was commonplace, now a day, for most women, and some rich men, to own a Dark One of their own…only the poorest of women, in the lowest social ranks, went without.

“Papa? What is this place?” Rumple tugged at his coat, and he glanced down at the boy.

Light brown hair, wispy that fell over a tiny, thin face as pale as the moon…soulful brown eyes…his mother’s eyes. Freckles a plenty. A frame too tiny for his age…probably from lack of proper nutrition for most of his life. Threadbare clothes, a coat with one too many holes in it…and Malcolm knew the boy’s shoes were worn nearly through.

He almost turned on his heel and led the boy away.

But the call of freedom was too strong.

“Come along, Rumple. We have an appointment.”

He’d never been in a Dark One facility before. Most Free Men tended to stay as far away as they could.

There was a small woman at the front desk, sitting in front of a plate glass window that held an insignia with the Dark One’s dagger frosted onto it…she had a plethora of red brown curls, a timid smile, and a slightly pointy nose. She wasn’t too Malcolm’s taste, but some might consider her pretty.

“Welcome to the Dark One Inc. central complex…I’m Nova, how may I help you?” She asked, in a slightly tremulous voice.

“I have an appointment with Reul Ghorm…the name’s Malcolm.”

She checked her computer, and nodded decisively.

“Yes, you’re in here. One moment please.” She pressed the intercom. “Tink…Mr. Malcolm is here to see Blue.”

There was silence for a moment…then a voice responded. “Send him back.”

“Right this way, sir.” Nova stood up, and led him to a glass door on the left. Rumple followed along, pulling nervously at his coat, and biting his lip.

They followed her down the hall, passing a room that was filled with women who were sitting on computers, typing away, and answering phones.

Malcolm didn’t bother asking where the Dark Ones were kept…he had no interest in seeing that part of the complex.

They came to an opulent waiting room…and were greeted by a tiny blonde woman, who seemed entirely too energetic and optimistic, considering her line of business.

“Good afternoon, welcome to Dark One Inc. I’m Tink, I’m Reul Ghorm’s personal assistant. That will be all, Nova.” She dismissed the slightly taller woman, who nodded and disappeared, after sending a concerned glance at the small boy holding tight to his father’s coat tails. “Reul is finishing a business meeting…she’ll be with you shortly. Have a seat.” Tink directed them to a black leather couch.

Malcolm tapped his heels anxiously, and tried to distract himself, ignoring Rumple’s silent pleas for his attention.

He couldn’t falter now, no.

At least here, Rumple stood half a chance.

And damn it, he just couldn’t do this anymore. He was tired of the responsibility…the grasping, needy, helpless babe who stared at him with eyes that never stopped pleading for love…and a belly that was never quite full.

“Mr. Malcolm? Reul will see you now.” Tink motioned them over. “Now…a few basic rules. You are to only address her as Mistress Ghorm. Keep your proposition short and to the point. She’s a busy woman and doesn’t waste time on long-winded speeches. Don’t touch anything. And don’t dare ask her for more than she offers. That’s one way to get yourself bound to a dagger real quick.” Tink didn’t look like she was joking at all, and Malcolm felt fear build in him.

This was a mistake. Panic was starting to well up inside of him.

He’d be lucky if he didn’t find himself a slave by the day’s end.

The frosted glass doors swung open, and he followed Tink inside, Rumple clinging to him at his heels.

If the waiting room was opulent, the office was an over-indulgence of wealth and status. White marble everywhere, diamond chandeliers and lamp shades, glittering statues and elegant paintings…a giant sculpted glass desk in the center, against which leaned the infamous Blue Fairy herself.

Malcolm gulped.

She was petite, curvaceous, wrapped in a grey silk skirt that clung to her shapely legs, a deep blue silk blouse that displayed more then was appropriate of her curvaceous chest, sky-high spikey stilettos, her auburn curls pulled into a an elaborate bun on the top of her head. A square pair of reading frames were perched on her nose, her face was painted with an almost eerie perfection…and her eyes were hard and cold. A phone was attached to her ear, and she was mid-conversation. She waved them in with long, claw-like nails that were painted metallic blue.

White leather high-backed arm chairs faced her desk, which matched the white leather sofa sitting on the right side of the room.

On the left side of the room stool an eight foot tall crystal sculpture…of a Kris Dagger. Etched into the crystal were letters…a name. Ravier.

Now Malcolm had never been a scholar…he’d hardly made it past his first few years of schooling. And he’d never paid much attention to history. But he knew that name.

The very first Dark One. The one who started it all. Ruel’s personal pet slave. He’d perished long ago, of course…the curse that bound a man’s soul to the dagger didn’t make it immortal.

Malcolm fought past the urge to run.

“…Yes, Yes. I understand completely. I’ll have my assistant send you the contract in the mail. Expect it within the week. Very well. I’ll speak to you soon.” She set down the phone, and turned her cold gaze on Malcolm.

“Come. Sit.” She ordered in short, clipped tones.

Malcolm hustled to obey, remembering Tink’s words of advice.

Ruel walked around them, her eye critically examining Rumple.

“This is the boy?”

“Aye, Mistress Ghorm. My son, Rumplestiltskin.”

He’d already contacted the woman previously, about the business deal. He knew she might have an interest in what he had to offer. He’d heard whispers, in the taverns, about how every once in a while, Reul would offer a substantial amount of money, for a child his age to a desperate parent.

Someone she could train up from a young age. They made the most obedient Dark Ones. She often made a huge profit, when it came time to sell.

“How old is he, again?” Reul tapped her chin, her lips pursed.

Rumple shrunk back from her harsh stare, and ducked his head, hiding his face against his father’s arm.

“Just seven, Mistress Ghorm. He’s a small lad, but smart as a whip, m’lady. An’ obedient as anythin’. I think he’d be a boon to you, in time.” He offered, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

He was a coward, at the heart of it.

He felt Rumple’s big eyes on him, obviously trying to puzzle out the situation, but the boy wisely remained silent.

“Hmm.” Reul didn’t say anything, simply circled them, her needle-thin heels click-clacking as she went. “And you’re certain you wish to sell? I don’t give refunds.”

Malcolm swallowed harshly. She spoke about the boy as if he were an object.

But wasn’t he selling him, like he was one? How was he any better?

“Aye.” He whispered, not looking down at his son, who was smart enough that he’d surely figured out what was going on at this point.

“Well…I normally wouldn’t purchase such a…scrawny product. But the boy has a…certain spark about him. I can’t put my finger on it.” Reul leaned over Rumple. “Do you know who I am, child?”

He shook his head.

“You will call me Mistress Ghorm. I’ll be your new guardian. You will be in my care until you’re eighteen…at which point, you will be bound to a dagger, and become one of my Dark Ones. You will b a slave…and I will sell you at my own discretion. Do you understand?”

Malcolm’s jaw hung wide open. The woman didn’t sugarcoat things, did she?

Rumple looked terrified, and turned to him.

“Please, Papa…please don’t leave me!” He whispered. “I want to stay with you!”

Malcolm swallowed roughly. “I can’t keep you anymore, laddie. I’m not meant to be a father. You’re better off with Mistress Ghorm. I…I need my freedom, Rumple. And here, at least, you’ll have a roof over your head…food in your belly. Mistress Ghorm won’t let you starve.”

Reul gave them a sickeningly sweet smile. “Of course not…one must protect their investments!” She trilled.

“Please, Papa! I don’t care about those things. We can go somewhere…anywhere! Start over new! Please!” he tugged on his father’s coat, but Malcolm didn’t look at him again.

“I’ve made my choice, Rumple. It won’t be a bad life, laddie. Just do as your told. One day you’ll have a mistress all your own…maybe she’ll be good to you.” He stood up, and shuffled his feet, daring to meet Reul Ghorm’s eyes.

She looked at him with disdain. She cared little enough for men as it was…in her eyes, he imagined that a man who sold his child to escape responsibility was lower even then her Dark Ones.

She waved her hand, and conjured a palm sized sack.

“Your fee.” She offered.

“Papa!” Rumple begged, tears now sliding down his pale cheeks. “Papa, don’t go!”

Malcolm reached for the sack, but Reul held it back for a moment.

“First…you must sign.” She indicated the contract that appeared from mid-air, on the desk beside her.

It was written out in ink, on old-world style parchment…the writing was loopy, and flowed beautifully.

He leaned forward, and his fingers only hesitated for a moment, when they picked up the blue feathered quill.

And then he signed, and Reul handed him the bag of gold. It was heavy.

“Never return. Or you might find yourself bound to a dagger yourself.” Ruel’s lip curled with disgust.

He nodded quickly.

“PAPA!” Rumple held onto his coat sleeve, and was sobbing now.

Reul flicked her wrist, and the boy was frozen, watching with wide, terrified eyes as Malcolm turned on his heel and walked away.

Malcolm paused before he left the office, but didn’t look back.

“Goodbye…son.”

And then he was gone.

Reul waited several long minutes before unfreezing the boy, who turned timidly and stared at her with wet brown eyes.

Slowly, her lips turned upwards.

Little Rumple shivered, and shrunk in on himself.

“Well, now, child. Let’s see about where I shall keep you. Tomorrow…your training begins.”

A cold sort of fear began to build in the child, and he wanted to turn tail and run as far from this woman as he could…but the memory of her body-freezing magic kept him in his place.

She led him from the office, and into a dark hallway, which led to a long, cold room…filled with small cells.

Many of the cells were filled with people.

Rumple tried not to stare…but he couldn’t help it.

They were all men…all dressed in rags…and almost every one of them sat, hunched over or sprawled in a slump, a broken, defeated look on their faces.

Each man bore a thin metal collar with a black stone set into the center front…and ½ inch wide metal bracers on each wrist, also set with small black stones.

Affixed outside each cell was a Kris dagger…and each one bore a different name.

“Welcome to your home…for at least the next eleven years, child. Perhaps longer.” Reul glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’re not to speak to any of the Dark Ones. Ever. Am I clear?”

“Y…yes Mistress Ghorm.” He whispered, trying to control his trembling.

“You seem to learn quickly. Excellent. That will be a boon to you, in terms of surviving here.”

She arrived at a stall at the end of the hall. There was another door, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she threw up a hand, and the iron bars opened.

“This is where you will sleep. I will lock you in at night…but during the day, you will be with me. Anything I ask of you, you will do. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Mistress Ghorm.”

He noticed one of the Dark Ones staring at him…he looked like a young man, but Rumple wasn’t a good judge of age. His cell was directly across from Rumple’s.

“Now…I have a business dinner, so I’ll be leaving for the day earlier than usual. Go on, child. Into your cell. I’ll return in the morning. Dinner will be brought to you this evening. Stay quiet, and cause no trouble.”

He stepped inside, noticing the straw that littered the floor…and the tiny rag that probably was meant to serve as a blanket. Seeing as he hadn’t had a proper blanket since his mama had left him, he’d take what he could get.

The iron bar door slammed shut behind him, the metallic clang echoing through the room.

It rang inside his chest, a constant reminder of the nightmare he couldn’t manage to wake up from.

She arched a brow at him, and a dark smile once more curled at her lips.

“Welcome home, Rumplestiltskin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy the next chapter! And since I forgot to mention it in the first chapter...obviously I don't own OUAT. Rumbelle would be in a very different state if I did.

Chapter 2

 

Summer in the Marchlands was nearly unbearable at times. The heat combined with the hot air currents carried inland by the sea produced a humidity level that, at times, you could almost choke on.

Lady Belle, daughter of the ruling Regent of the Marchlands, Sir Maurice, fanned herself gently as she supervised her servants setting up the lunch service.

“Tis’ a hot one today, milady.” Gertrude Potts, the servant who’d been with her since she was a young girl, who’d looked after her when she’d run wild on the seaside cliffs, looked up, smoothing down her apron. Mrs. Potts had long been the head of her staff, and was efficient in her job. “Are you sure you would not prefer to have lunch with the ladies inside?”

Belle glanced at the pretty scenery the cliffs and the backdrop of the ocean made, for the elegantly set table, positioned on the terrace of East Wing’s largest parlor.

“Perhaps just set up a fan or two, to provide a bit of relief?” She suggested. “I do so like to enjoy the scenery over lunch.”

Mrs. Potts nodded, and instructed Philippa to do as the Lady had asked.

“And use my mother’s china, please. The ivory with the blue roses.”

“As always, milady. Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Mrs. Potts gave her a fond smile. Lady Colette had passed away a several years ago, when Belle was only seventeen, but her daughter still tried to keep the memory of her alive in every way possible. “Who are we expecting again, this afternoon?”

“Snow, Regina, and Ariel…and I believe Snow is bringing along that insufferable girl, Ella…the one engaged to Prince Thomas?” Belle scrunched her nose.

Mrs. Potts frowned. “Ah…the one who’s a bit snooty, despite her low-born upbringing.”

“It’s not even her upbringing that’s the issue, Mrs. Potts. She’s just…utterly droll. The last time Snow brought her along, and we were immersed in a conversation about the state of politics in the differing Kingdoms…the girl is just…insipid. She couldn’t follow the conversation at all. And she was full of spiteful remarks about Robin, and Charming. As if she’s so much better, because her fiancé is a born Free Man.”

Mrs. Potts huffed. “I don’t know why Princess Snow puts up with her.”

“Snow is kind-hearted. I don’t think Ella has made many friends in our circle…not that I’m surprised. I think Snow just feels bad for her and wants to help her.”

Mrs. Potts gave her a fond smile. “Ah…so the same reason you allow her to come. You and Princess Snow have always had so much in common.” She shrugged. “Ah! Napkins! That twit Philippa forgot the linens!” And she rushed off.

Belle sighed, and moved around the table, straightening a fork here, or a knife there.

She was bored out of her mind…and frankly, she wished she were locked in her cool, dark library, away from the summer heat.

Not that she didn’t enjoy her monthly get-togethers with her friends…but she did so loathe when it came time for her to play hostess. She wasn’t the natural entertainer her mother had been. They normally rotated the hosting duties…between the five of them, (including Princess Aurora, who’d also attended school with them but wouldn’t be able to attend today, as she had a betrothal contract meeting), that meant she only had to host once every five months…still, the job gave her a bit of anxiety.

She sighed, and turned to lean against the balcony, staring out at the ocean.

She was twenty-five now…and the only one out of her friends who was neither married, nor engaged. Even Regina had finally tied the knot with her newly freed Dark One, Robin. But she was fortunate in the fact that her father had come to his senses, and allowed her to end her betrothal to that Sir Gaston…she knew she never would have had a happy marriage with him.

Her father was good to her, even if he didn’t understand her. She longed for real love, and she’d settle for nothing less.

The Marchlands seaside palace, where she spent most of her year, was smaller than the castle further inland that her father occupied in Avonlea, but it was still fairly large. It was beautiful, and the architecture dated back over two hundred years…the oldest still standing residence in the kingdom, aside from the castle in the capital city of Avonlea, where her father held court. It also played host to the most eclectic, oldest library in the kingdom, which is where she spent a good deal of her time, writing research articles and literature pieces for the Marchlands University, and working her way through one of the most diverse collections of books in the realm.

Her father came to holiday with her on occasion, but most of the time she was the sole resident (aside from her small team of servants) of the seaside home, rather unimaginatively named Seaview Palace by her great grandfather, the first Regent of the Marchlands. Her family had taken over the ruling of the kingdom nearly a hundred years ago, when the ruling family had died out with no heirs. The people had been happy under her grandparents rule, and her family had never sought to elevate from the position of Regent…everyone was content, and her kingdom was quite prosperous. Her mother, in turn, had ruled wisely and fairly, and had married an intelligent, if sometimes stubborn, man who’d ruled well in her place when she’d died.

By rights, Belle should have taken over as Regent when she’d graduated University…but they were wealthy enough to pay off Reul Ghorm, who was really the only notable figure who might object to her father’s continued rule.

“Milady…Lady Regina has arrived.” Philippa squeaked timidly, breaking her silent contemplation.

She turned, and blinked. “Very well…show her into the first floor east parlor, until lunch is ready. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“Yes, milady.” She bobbed a curtsey, and hurried away.

Belle ducked inside, and checked herself in the mirror. Normally, she wasn’t a vain person…but Regina, older than the rest of them by three years, had been her Sponsor during her first year of university. They’d developed a close bond…and Regina had always been a stickler for appearances. She’d trained her underclassmen to appear perfect at all times. It was an ingrained habit.

Her auburn curls were perfectly pinned, her make-up; something she only wore on occasions that called for such, was flawless, and her silk turquoise wrap dress was knee-length, and wrinkle free. She wore plum purple stilettos, and a matching purple belt cinched the wrap-dress. Little diamonds glinted at her ears.

She smoothed her hands down front of her dress once more, then went to meet Regina.

Regina was the daughter of a fifth-in-line prince in a small province off of Ulbany, who hadn’t lived long enough to even move up a place in line for the throne. (There were whispers that Regina’s awful mother, a power-obsessed, cruel woman, had disposed of the husband she’d never truly cared for with devious methods). Her mother had, a year ago, re-married…a wealthy politician in the Frontlands. Belle didn’t pay much attention to rumors…but she had heard that Cora was no happier in her first marriage then she was in her second.

There was no confirmation of this, as Regina hadn’t spoken to her mother in a decade. She’d long ago cut ties with the woman she referred to as ‘heartless.’

She stepped into the parlor, and noticed that Regina and Ariel were both present, and they were kissing their hellos.

“Ladies.” She greeted, smiling. Despite the heat, and the anxiety of her hosting duties, she was always happy to see her friends.

“Belle!” Ariel squealed, the red-head moving towards her, her eyes bright with excitement.

Ariel, Aurora, Snow, and Belle had all attended Marchlands University (one of the largest and most elite universities in the realm) all four years together…and Regina had been a mentor to them all.

“Ariel.” She exchanged greeting with the bubbly girl, and then turned to Regina, who offered her a ruby-lipped smile…the one that curled at her lips, and was combined with a slow, meaningful arch of one of her perfectly sculpted, regal brows.

Belle was often spoken of as a great beauty... ‘Your name literally translates as beauty!’ her friends had always teased her. But in her opinion, Regina’s sensual, smoky looks were far lovelier.

“Regina.” She hugged her former mentor, and they bussed cheeks.

“Belle, you look lovely. Seaview is beautiful, as always…new curtains?” She gestured to the windows, which were propped open, allowing in the warm breeze.

“Yes…I’m doing a bit of redecorating here and there. The mauve ones were simply dreadful.”

“I agree.”

“How’s Robin?” The ladies settled themselves.

“Enjoying his new freedoms. It’s been an adjustment, and every once in a while I have to remind him that he’s no long in my thrall…but for the most part, he’s at peace with himself…”

“I know Snow had the same issues with Charming at first.” Ariel chimed in. “I think it’s quite often something that women who marry the former Dark Ones go through…”

“Yes…but Snow and Charming are doing wonderfully. I’m sure you and Robin will find your way as well.” Belle added.

“Speaking of marriages…Erik and I have finally set a date.” Ariel said, wiggling her left hand. On her third finger sat her sparkly bobble…the ring that she’d received two months ago from her seafaring Prince.

“Do tell.” Regina leaned forward. She’d been married nearly a year ago, and was excited to see another friend walk down the aisle.

“Next summer in June…on the Solstice. Papa insisted we have a proper betrothal time…and in Erik’s kingdom, royals traditionally wed on the Summer Solstice.” Ariel, though baring the appearance of a human, was actually of mere-origins… a mermaid who’d developed a fascination for humans, and with her father’s permission, had attended University and fallen in love with the human world. Not many mere-folk lived permanently the human world…and the chunky, sea-life encrusted bracelet on her wright wrist was the ever-present symbol of her true form. The bracelet was enchanted to allow her to live among the humans…but whenever she longed for a visit to her home and her family, all she had to do was remove it and dive into the ocean.

Now she was engaged to a prince from a small sea-faring kingdom southwest of the Marchlands. While the prince’s sister was set to inherit her mother’s crown one day, Erik and Ariel were content to marry, and set off on a voyage. The prince was an avid sailor, and with a wife to secure him, he could finally live the adventure he’d always craved.

There was a knock, and Philippa showed in Snow, who was blessedly alone.

“Snow!” Belle stood, and embraced her. “Where’s Ella?”

“Poor thing was down with the flu, she had to cancel.”

“Oh, such a shame.” Regina said dryly.

“Yes…she will be missed.” Belle tried to sound genuine, but Snow rolled her eyes and giggled.

“I know you all aren’t fond of her…but thank you for extending the invitation anyways, Belle.”

“Come, sit. Lunch will be served momentarily. Shall I ring for tea?”

They all declined…it was too hot for a cuppa.

“So tell me…what were we talking about?” Snow asked, green eyes wide.

“Ariel’s wedding. She’s set the date for the next summer Solstice!” Belle informed her.

“Wonderful! Oh Ariel, we’re so happy! And Aurora will be wed by the fall…we’ll all be married! Well…” She trailed off, and glanced apologetically at Belle.

Belle only shook her head. “Don’t worry, it’s alright Snow.” She smiled, and threaded her fingers in her lap. “I’m perfectly content, at the moment.”

Snow frowned gently. “Oh but Belle…don’t you ever get lonely?”

Belle’s brow furrowed. “I have my servants…and my books. I’m never alone, when I’m lost in the plot of a good novel.”

Regina scowled. “Books can only take you so far, Belle.” She muttered, crossing her arms. “You’re not getting any younger. By the fairies, you’ve never even taken a lover for yourself!”

Belle blushed, and bit her lip. That much was true…she was still innocent to the ways of love and passion. And maybe she hid away in her books, and dreamed of adventure without ever seeking it…but something in her heart told her that she just had to be patient…she had an adventure of her own to experience…and it would find her.

“Don’t badger her, Regina!” Ariel scolded. “Belle, don’t worry…you’ll find your love when you’re meant to.”

Regina’s sever expression faded. “I’m sorry…she’s right. After all…I never thought I’d find love again…let alone with another Dark One…not after….” She trailed off, and her eyes flickered down sadly, but then she banished the look. “But now I have Robin…and I’ve never been happier.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you.”

There was a knock, and Mrs. Potts poked her head in. “Milady’s, lunch is served on the terrace, if you please.” She announced primly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

Over lunch, talk turned to each of their families…Snow caught them up on her father’s health, which has been declining, and her husband, the former Dark One David, who was home with their two year old Emma. Ariel informed them of life in Atlantica, where she’d recently visited, and Erik’s sister’s new baby. Regina informed them that Robin was re-acquainting himself with the bow and arrow…an activity he’d shared with his father, and excelled at, before he’d been enslaved several years ago.

Finally, the attention turned to Belle…and she wished desperately that it wouldn’t.

“Belle…darling…” Regina hesitated a moment, then sighed. “We’d like to talk to you about something.”

Belle frowned. “What is it?”

“Belle.” Snow, who sat to her right, gently set one hand atop hers. “You’re twenty-five now, and unmarried…and you still haven’t taken a Dark One. People in court…well they’re beginning to talk. People are calling you odd.”

Belle frowned deeply, and stared at her half-eaten lunch…pheasant today.

“You all know how I feel about owning someone…”

“We know, Belle. But…well, it’s expected, of someone of our station. Your father even wrote us, and asked us to speak with you. Reul Ghorm herself was curious as to why you’ve not yet come to see her.” Ariel added with wide eyes. Ariel had a Dark One of her own…but he only fulfilled the capacity of protector and menial servant, and she planned to release him the moment she married Erik…it would then be socially acceptable to do so.

Alarm shot through Belle. The Blue Fairy had noticed? Her father hadn’t told her that!

That could be dangerous…for her father, and the Marchlands. Reul could take it as an affront.

It was true, that it wasn’t the taboo that is had once been to own a Dark One…and in fact a noblewoman of her status, particularly an unmarried one, with no Dark One in thrall to her was looked at as an oddity…and it could cause trouble.

She was just…so against the idea of owning another human being…robbing them of their free will. It was a horrid thought. No one deserved to have their choices taken from them.

Personally she considered the Blue Fairy a tyrant…but the woman was far too powerful to speak out against. It could be the downfall of her kingdom, to do so.

She sighed, and closed her eyes.

“Belle, we’re concerned for you.” Snow’s voice was gentle. “We don’t want Reul Ghorm to find fault with you and your kingdom.”

“Yes. I think the time has come to set aside your convictions…and accept that this is something you must do.” Regina added.

“You don’t have to be cruel to him, Belle.” Ariel voiced. “I am always kind as can be, to Darwin. I never overwork him…he often says he is happiest with me then he has ever been. And he anticipates the day I marry and can release him…it will be the first time he’ll be a Free Man in over thirty years.”

Belle bit her lip, and examined the concern on her dearest friend’s faces.

She knew this was coming. She’d put it off for so long. Years.

She nodded, her mood somber.

“Very well. I suppose…all I can do, is take a Dark One. For the sake of peace in my kingdom.”

“Excellent.” Regina moved to the service belle, and rung it. “You really should upgrade to an electronic intercom system, dear.”

Belle rolled her eyes. Regina mentioned it every time.

“Regina, you know this palace is protected by the Marchlands Historical Society…any kind of serious modifications like that would violate their protection act…we’re lucky we found loopholes to allow for electronic lighting and appliances, a phone line, and air conditioning. As it stands, I have to sojourn to the little internet cafe in town in order to send papers to the University and answer e-mails.”

It was the same old playful banter about her ancient home. She acted like it frustrated her, but she honestly enjoyed the mostly old world feel of her home…and the walk into the little hamlet that resided on the other side of the palace was only ten minutes long.

“Regina…what are you doing?” Snow asked curiously, tilting her head gently.

“Summoning the…Oh, there you are.” Mrs. Potts had appeared before them. “Have my driver notified…the ladies and I shall be leaving shortly for the Frontlands.”

“Pardon?” Ariel squeaked.

“Regina, what is this about?” Belle stood, as the matronly servant bustled out. Their lunch was finished, for the most part, but desert had not yet been served. She knew cook had prepared Grand Marnier Souffle, one of Regina’s favorite things ever.

“We’re going on a short trip. The Frontlands hosts the main headquarters of Dark One Inc. Reul Ghorm herself is in residence there. It’s only a two hour drive from here…that new expressway makes travel so convenient.” She folded her hands over her abdomen. “We’ll go see the Blue Fairy directly…settle this all now, and set your father’s mind at ease.”

“Oh but…” Belle hadn’t intended to have to pick out a slave today.

“She’s right, Belle. We have the rest of the afternoon free…we should really handle this now…before you have the time to talk yourself out of it.” Snow added, and Ariel nodded.

Belle sighed deeply, and though everything inside of her that she’d ever believed rebelled at the thought, she nodded. “Yes…but I insist we have desert and tea first…cook worked so hard…”

“Very well.” Regina agreed, her eyes lighting up as Philippa wheeled in the souffles and tea service.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle crossed and re-crossed her legs several times, while she waited apprehensively in the waiting room of Reul Ghorm’s office.

The entire ride over, she’d been a tense bundle of nerves, and a poor conversationalist.

Ariel, Snow, and Regina had kept up a discussion about what kind of Dark One Belle would choose, but she’d tuned out of most of it.

This was the last thing she’d ever wanted…but she tried to keep in mind what Ariel had said.

She could keep her Dark One as a companion…a friend maybe. She didn’t have to be harsh or cruel with him…she didn’t have to use him as a bedmate against his will…she didn’t even have force him into manual labor.

Regina was sitting with her, but to cut down on overwhelming Belle, Snow and Ariel had gone off to the local bazar, after wishing Belle good luck and agreeing to meet back in two hours.

The petite blonde who’d introduced herself as Tink had disappeared into the Blue Fairy’s office for a few minutes, and now returned, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear.

“Reul will see you now, Lady Belle. Lady Regina, will you be accompanying?”

“I think I should…it is her first Dark One.” Regina gave Tink her perfected fake smile.

Tink nodded eagerly. “Of course. Lady Belle, Ruel is particularly happy to finally have you patronizing our company. She’s looked forward to your visit for some time.”

“I’m sorry to have kept her waiting.” Belle answered, sucking in a deep breath and remembering her mother’s mantra…’Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.’ “I must admit…I’m a bit nervous…does the binding ceremony hurt?”

“A tiny prick to bind the blade to your blood, that’s all.” Tink reassured her.

Inside they found Reul, her timeless appearance as beautiful as ever, sitting behind her desk, a tiny smirk on her lips.

“Mistress Ghorm.” Regina bobbed a curtsey, which Belle copied quickly, bowing her head respectfully.

“Lady Regina…how lovely to see you. And I see you’ve brought me the beautiful, if wayward, Lady Belle. I’ve been waiting some time to meet you, dear.” She stood. She was immaculate as always, today in sapphire silk with shimmering pearl accents.

“It’s an honor, Mistress Ghorm.” Belle adopted her well-practiced political mask. “I hope you can forgive the wait, madam.” She bowed her head once more in deference, and provided the practiced excuse Regina and Snow had thought up. “To be honest, my lady, I’ve been nervous to take a Dark One of my own…men in general make me uneasy. Such is the reason I sought to end my betrothal to Sir Gaston.”

It would appeal to Reul to pretend to have a fear of men, Regina had explained.

“I don’t blame you…I’ve seen him at the occasional social gathering. Big lumbering lummox…and not very bright. And with you being such a tiny thing…I can’t believe your father sought to choose him for you in the first place. Goes to show that we can’t trust the judgement of even our smarter men. ” Reul’s face twisted in annoyance. “But there’s no need to fear one of my pets, darling girl. He will be completely in your thrall…at your every whim. You will hold all the power, darling girl.”

“Yes, Mistress Ghorm. My friends finally convinced me that I had no need to fear…and that’s what brought me here today.”

“Wonderful!” Reul clapped her hands together. “Your father has long since extended a line of credit…you can choose whatever Dark One your heart desires. Shall I show you to the kennels?”

“Yes, Mistress.” She bobbed another curtsey, keeping her eyes trained on the ground.

Kennels? As if they were beasts? How horrid!

“What a delightful girl.” Reul complimented, linking arms with Regina, who kept that honeyed smile on her face.

“She is indeed…I’ve watched over her since our days in University. She’s absolutely charming, and such a beautiful thing, isn’t she?” Regina cooed.

They walked a few steps ahead of Belle, who followed sedately, as they went out a different door then where they’d entered, and stepped into a cool, slightly damp hallway.

Regina kept a running conversation with Reul, discussing Robin. She could hear Reul admonishing Regina slightly for freeing Robin, but Regina reassured the woman, falsely, that she made certain to keep Robin in check…and that the only reason she’d released him from the dagger was because a Dark One couldn’t marry, and she wasn’t getting any younger. She couldn’t possibly settle for a lesser male, then one who was trained so very well already, could she?

Their conversation made Belle feel ill.

And then they entered into an even longer room…and if possible, it was even colder in here.

Belle felt horror overcome her.

It was lined with cages…barely big enough to fit a full grown man comfortably…and yet these cages were home to men, many of whom were slumped against the walls, or curled in on themselves.

She scanned them as she walked, taking note of the blank look in most of their eyes. They wore collars and wrist bracers, set with black stones, and were dressed in little more than rags.

A dagger was affixed to each cage…and branded with a name.

A lump formed in her throat, and she had to look away as she met the eyes of a Dark One who had to be over fifty, and was naught but skin and bones.

“The premium Dark Ones are in the next hall, if you’d care to take a look.” Reul mentioned, motioning to the doorway at the end of the hall. “They, of course, come at a higher cost. And if you don’t find anything you like here, we have another entire wing I can take you to…though they’re all of the same ilk as these ones. The Premium room offers you the best of the best…most of them trained by my own hand, and well-broken in.”

Belle forced herself to swallow, and offer a timid smile.

This woman…was a demon. Who could possibly do this to people? Who spoke of these poor men as if they were lower than dirt?

She couldn’t imagine the hatred the sorceress must have for men, to subject them to such misery. How could someone hate another person so much?

She glanced around, knowing that one of these men would soon be in thrall to her.

A few of them stared openly, most of them pretended like she wasn’t even there.

“Look in the premium room, Belle. That’s where I found Robin.” Regina encouraged, her dark eyes glinting.

She understood what Regina was saying without speaking…she would keep Reul busy in here.

Belle quickly slipped into the next hall, her heels echoing on the stone floor.

This room had fewer cages…not that they were any bigger. The room itself was just smaller.

She slowly walked from cage to cage, her heart thudding, wishing she could free all of these men.

She paused, however, by the very last cage.

The man was slight of build, and looked a good ten years or so older than she. His hair was wispy brown, and on the longish side, just brushing his threadbare collar…and greying slightly at the temples. His face was buried in his arms, which were folded against his knees, as he huddled against the walls. She was certain that if he stood at his full height, he wouldn’t be but a few inches taller than her. His brown rags had seen better days, and the boots on his feet were practically falling apart.

The dagger affixed to his cage read the most unusual name she’d ever seen, outside of a fairytale. Rumplestiltskin, in curved, elegant letters etched into the blade.

She titled her head, and slowly approached the cage.

“Pardon me.” She murmured quietly, trying not to startle him.

His head snapped up all the same, fear clouding his features.

She stared for a moment, entranced.

He wasn’t conventionally handsome…not in the way Charming and Robin were…or even Gaston…but she’d never been worried about superficial things like that anyways.

No…his face had character though. The strong jaw, and slightly curved nose…he had a strong profile, and a wide, thin mouth. She wouldn’t peg him as older than 35 or 36, but a life of slavery had no doubt left its mark…his face was careworn and lined. But it was his eyes…oh his eyes.

Her heart pounded in her chest. His eyes, they ate at her very soul. The deep color of aged whiskey and so very guarded…

Broken, and hopeless. It resonated from him.

He was a shattered man, and she felt as if her heart was breaking by just looking at him.

He stared at her as if she were going to strike him at any moment…and a soft sound of distress slipped from between his lips, as he cowered under her gaze.

“Rumplestiltskin? Is that your name?” She asked softly, staring down at him with gentle eyes.

He barely managed a nod, before glancing around, obviously looking for something, before shrinking back against the wall.

“My name is Belle…Lady Belle of the Marchlands.” She smiled at him gently...and despite her dress, and her towering heels, she crouched down so that she was on eye level with him.

He stared at her, incredulous. He was fisting his tattered shirt, his knuckles gone white from the intensity of his grip.

He was terrified.

What had this poor man been through in his life?

Her chest tightened…and all she wanted to do was hug him gently, and soothe his fears.

“How long have you been a Dark One, Rumplestiltskin?” She asked gently, her fingers gently coiling around the bars of his cage.

He only stared at her, his lips pressed tightly together…as if he was terrified to even answer her.

“He won’t answer you. Doesn’t talk, that ‘un.”

Belle glanced over at the cell next to his…the man was in his forties…possibly late forties…and he grinned at her with a mouth of crooked and missing teeth. His blade read Zoso.

“He can’t talk? Or won’t talk?” She asked, glancing back at the terrified man, who was now staring at his lap.

“Won’t talk. Not since the last time he was returned. ‘Bout a year ago now, I reckon. Poor lad…been bought and returned twice, from what I’ve heard…and Ruel’s been his owner since he was a wee one.”

Belle frowned deeply, and turned back to stare at Rumplestiltskin.

His face was twisted in shame. He didn’t raise his eyes to meet hers again.

‘Oh Rumplestiltskin…’ She’d never been so deeply affected by another human being’s pain before…but his just pierced her heart.

She stood to her full height, just as the sound of heels on cement sounded, and Regina joined her, Tink following with a clipboard.

“Mistress Ghorm had to take a call…she asked me to see to you, Lady Belle. Have you found anyone who’s struck your fancy?” Tink asked.

Regina’s brow furrowed…she knew that look on her friends’ face.

“This man…Rumplestiltskin?” Belle asked, motioning to the silent man, who’d curled into himself once more.

Tink’s eyes went wide.

“You want him!?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

Regina frowned. “Why do you sound so shocked? He’s a premium Dark One, is he not?”

“Well…yes…in all technicality. He’s one of Mistress Ghorm’s prized possessions. You see, she purchased him when he was only seven years old, from his scoundrel father…and she groomed him into the perfect slave. That’s why he has premium pricing. However…you should be aware…he’s had two previous owners.”

Belle tried to keep the scowl off her face. ‘Prized possession…seven years old!? What kind of father sells his seven year old!?’

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t glanced up once, as Tink spoke about him as if he were an object…less than an animal.

“I can provide you with a file on him…a brief history, if you like. That may help you make an informed decision. We have many Dark Ones who have never had an owner before.” Tink encouraged.

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “Just get the file, please. Come along, Belle. We’ll read up on this man you’ve chosen.” She would not, however, allow Belle to be discouraged…if Belle felt compelled to choose this man…

This rather small, frightened thing that wouldn’t say boo to a goose…

Well, Regina wouldn’t allow anyone to bully her out of that choice.

Belle paused beside his cage once more.

“I’ll be back, Rumplestiltskin.” She promised.

He didn’t budge, or even acknowledge she’d spoken, but she smiled nonetheless.

For so long now, Belle had felt…a sense of being lost. Confused. Her only purpose in life was to read the next exciting adventure, or learn a new language…write another research paper. Nothing truly challenged her…nothing made her feel truly alive.

But now…now she had a new purpose.

The man in that cage was little more than a shadow, crushed and discouraged under the heel of cold women his entire life. Sold by his father as a young thing, and bought and returned twice…who wouldn’t wilt under rejection like that? He’d spent his whole life being oppressed and abandoned.

She would find a way to coax him to life…to encourage a smile to bloom on his face. She could only imagine how it would brighten his eyes. They were such soulful, expressive eyes…right now filled with crushing pain and loneliness.

She would fill them with joy and life. She would find a way.

 

To Be Continued~

In the next chapter, Belle and Regina delve a little into Rumplestiltskin’s history, and Rumple goes home with Belle, where she learns it’s going to take a lot more than a hot meal and a little gentle coaxing to encourage him to open up to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been quite some time since I updated. I really appreciate your patience with me! I had an unfortunate incident where my flash drive, which held all of my writing, including everything i'd written for this fic, on it, vanished off the face of the earth. After spending a week ripping my home apart to try and find it, I had to accept that it was gone...along with all of my files. I was a more then a little depressed, and honestly I wasn't ready to launch into re-writing this chapter right away. However, i'm (mostly) over it, and I spent a great deal of time giving you guys a nice long chapter in return for your patience! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I appreciate each one so much! Especially when I get positive reviews from fellow Rumbelle writers who I've admired soooo much ^_^ I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 3

 

Belle and Regina followed Tink into an opulent sitting parlor down the hall from Reul’s office, where she supplied a tea service with a steaming teapot, and a plate of delicate, flaky pastries and rich scones.

“Is there anything else I can offer you, ladies?” Tink asked, folding her hands over her middle and smiling.

“Just the file you promised us.” Regina said, leaning forward to fix a cup of tea.

“Yes, of course…” The blonde faltered for a moment, arching a brow curiously. “Are you certain you’re interested in Rumplestiltskin, Lady Belle? We have younger, more physically appealing Dark Ones. He’s ridiculously obedient, and meek…but most women are…cautious, about taking on a Dark One with previous owners.”

Belle frowned. “Well…couldn’t the fault lie in the previous owners? Why do you assume Rumplestiltskin is to blame for his return both times?”

Tink’s face blanched and she grimaced, but quickly tried to cover it up. Regina shot Belle a disapproving look, and Belle sighed softly. There she went, shooting off at the mouth again.

“Of course. It’s possible. I’ve never personally had any issues dealing with him.” She shrugged slightly, and made a motion with her hand…and a folder materialized there.

“You have magic!” Belle exclaimed in amazement.

“Of course.” Tink blinked and frowned quizzically. “Mistress Ghorm only employs the most talented of sorceresses. Working for Dark One Inc. is the only legal utilization of magic.” She set the file down in front of Belle, and straightened once more. “His file. I’ll leave you to review it. Buzz me on the intercom if you need anything. I’ll check on you in a while.”

Belle watched her leave, her interest piqued.

She’d never known that Reul employed sorceresses. She glanced at Regina out of the corner of her eye. Her friend’s shoulders were tense.

Not many people knew Regina’s secret. Her small circle of friends were the only ones to know of Regina’s magical ability. Her mother, a sorceress herself, had trained her surreptitiously. It was no secret that Cora craved power…and had hoped that molding her daughter in her fashion would help bolster her arsenal.

But Regina had rebelled against her mother the moment she was legally able to, and turned her back on her. She kept a lid on her magic, and only practiced it in the greatest secrecy, in her vault, buried far beneath her manor.

Reul Ghorm had long ago abolished the use of magic by men. Even free men didn’t dare openly use any magical potential. Very few female magic practitioners made themselves known…because if they failed to conform to Reul’s desires (which apparently, meant working for her), they managed to ‘disappear.’

Shaking off her curiosity for now, she turned her attention to the file.

The first page was a medical history…and it’s cold, mechanical wording made her cringe. Phrases like ‘screened for disease upon each return’, and the clinical manner in which they broke down a human being….age:34, height: 5’8, build: slim, hair: brown, eyes: brown…it was listed in precise order, as if one were purchasing a horse.

She flipped through the rest of it, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. A few short snippets on his previous purchasers, the names were of course, blacked out for privacy. He was with his first owner for eleven years…and his second, only a year.

Well that was odd.

Then when she got to the back of the file, she felt herself grow sick, as she reviewed the original paperwork for the sale a seven year old Rumplestiltskin…the name of the seller was, again, blacked out…but he was listed as the boy’s father.

Revulsion and fury warred within her.

Who _sold_ a child? And even worse…who _bought_ one? And innocent babe?

But then, she supposed that crime was unexceptional, in comparison to three hundred years of enslaving and selling men, binding their very souls to daggers with a dark curse, and treating them as less than human.

She’d always felt a strong dislike for the Blue Fairy, the twisted evil being, without ever making her acquaintance. Now, for the first time in her life, Belle felt true hatred fester insider her…and was surprised at the intensity of the emotion.

The memory of Rumple’s eyes…so broken…so very _dead_ …made her quake in anger. The man had lived nearly his whole life, having his soul crushed.

Was he beyond saving? Could she fix a man, so obviously shattered?

She wasn’t entirely sure. But her friends had always believed she was brave…and maybe, for the first time, she could truly prove herself worthy of their belief.

This time, she could truly be brave.

“Belle.”

She was shaken from her musings by a concerned Regina, whose brow was furrowed.

“You’re crying.” Regina whispered.

Belle blinked, and finally became aware of the quiet tear tracks that had made their way down her cheeks.

She tried to blink away the moisture in her eyes, and realized that she was not yet done crying, as more tears spilled out in abundance.

“Belle?” Regina grimaced, and tentatively patted her hand. She’d never been good at offering comfort to others…it was really Snow’s area, and Regina found herself desperately wishing for the almost annoyingly optimistic princess.

“Sorry. I’m just…so angry. They treat him…all of them, like they’re lower then dogs. Who sells a seven year old, Regina? Let alone your own _son_!?” She whispered furiously.

Regina sent her an alarmed glance.

“Be careful what you say. You never know who’s listening.” Regina’s voice was so quiet, Belle barely heard her. Regina looked pointedly around the room, and then drew her gaze to the mirror directly across from them, that took up most of the mirror and had a gilded frame. “Or watching.” She breathed out, again barely loud enough to hear.

Belle nodded, and tried to contain her tears.

“Don’t be so worried, Belle. Owning a Dark One won’t be as hard as you think…I promise, he’ll be more frightened of you, then you are of him.” Regina said in an elevated tone.

Belle caught on immediately, and gave her a timid nod.

“Go clean up a bit. There’s a mirror right there…you’re face looks a fright.” Regina said pointedly.

Belle again nodded, and moved to the mirror, staring into it, as if trying to determine whether someone was watching them. As if she would know, if they were, she thought cynically.

She wiped her face with the handkerchief she pulled from her bag. It was one of her favorites, from the set of pale blue silk squares her mother had embroidered for her with white and dark blue roses, when she’d been fifteen. An elegant B was stitched into the left corner of each.

Her mother had been amazing with embroidery…particularly on silk. Belle had never picked up on the skill…her poor attempts had resulted in many an afternoon spent in laughter with her mother…

She hadn’t attempted the craft again, since Colette’s death. Not only was she terrible at it…it brought back too many memories.

After fussing with her hair for a moment, she returned to her seat beside Regina on the white leather sofa, and accepted the cup of tea and scone, smothered in clotted cream, that the older woman encouraged her to eat.

“So.” Regina tapped her fingers gently against her cup. “He’s the one, then?”

Belle nodded. “Yes. He’s the one.”

Regina nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get this show on the road.” She stood and moved over to the intercom by the door, and pressed the call button.

A few minutes later, just as Belle was finishing the last dregs of her tea, Mistress Ghorm entered the room, followed by Tink.

“So, have you chosen then?” Mistress Ghorm asked, pasting a bright smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes.” Belle stood, and handed her the file. “This one.”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter, but Belle was almost certain that there was a tick in her left eye, as she looked into the folder.

“Well.” She snapped the file closed, and looked up slowly. “So you’ve chosen Rumplestiltskin?”

“Yes.” Belle feigned an uncertain look. “He is…small. Not intimidating. Quiet. I think I might be able to handle that much.”

Reul stared at her, her eyes assessing, her lips pressed thin and sharp like a blade. Finally, she nodded.

“Yes. I think it will be a good fit.”

Tink gave her an incredulous look, but Reul simply waved her off.

“Have the ceremonial room prepared…and fetch Rumplestiltskin. Make sure he’s cleaned up for his new… _mistress_.” Her tone was honey, dripping with poison.

Tink left, shaking her head ever so slightly, and Belle couldn’t help but wonder about the blonde woman’s strange behavior regarding her decision.

Reul lingered for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then she offered Belle a tight smile.

“I’ll go draw up the contract and arrange to payment to be deducted from your father’s accounts…please, finish your repast, and I’ll send Tink to escort you to the ceremonial dagger room shortly.”

“Thank you.” Belle murmured, watching the woman leave, and slowly letting out the tense breath she’d been holding.

“Come have another cup of tea, Belle.” Regina encouraged.

Belle really would just rather get this whole business over with, but she followed Regina’s advice regardless.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Rumplestiltskin, and could only hope that she’d be out of this dreadful nightmarish prison soon, with him at her side, never to return.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

He had long ago grown used to the monotony of his days. He woke in the mornings, sometimes to a cold breakfast of thin porridge and murky water on a good day…most days, he was served nothing.

He would sit in silence on the cold floor of his cell for hours…buyers would come and go, whispering to their companions, or to his captors. Some glanced at him…others passed right by without even a glimpse.

If he was lucky, the slavers would let him out of his cell for some manual labor. They liked him to do it…he was quiet, obedient, and never tried to initiate conversation with other Dark Ones. 

He never talked to anyone. Not once, in the two years since he’d first been returned…or in the year since his most recent mistress had dumped him back on Reul’s doorstep.

Oh, but how he’d begged her to just release him…she had no more use for him, why couldn’t she let him go on his way? Then maybe he’d have a chance to search…

But no. She was a cruel woman…almost as cruel as the Blue Fairy herself. Maybe more so.

Reul never beat him for her own pleasure. She had no need….she derived her joy from the absolute control she held over the entire realm…her slaves in particular.

And so, upon his second return to Reul’s cells, he’d once more lapsed into hopeless mutism.

He’d lost everything four years ago. His soul had been shattered. And the one glimmer he had of hope…well, his mistress had crushed it under her heel a year ago.

She was truly heartless.

He wouldn’t get another chance. No one would pick a twice-returned Dark One.

He would sit in this cell until the day Reul allowed him to die.

And so he accepted his fate.

Until the day crystalline blue eyes pulled him from the dark pit of echoing pain that was his existence.

He hadn’t known what she could possibly want from him, when she crouched down in front of his cell. She was young, maybe ten years his junior or more…and beautiful. So beautiful…maybe the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And her lovely blue eyes sparkled with kindness, her full red lips pulled into a gentle smile.

He couldn’t have found the words to answer her, even if he had used his voice more than once over the last year.

He’d been so caught up in his madly circling thoughts; he hadn’t realized she’d bene trying to talk to him, until she stood once more, Tinkerbelle having joined her in the room with another woman.

His eyes found the floor, as he hunched in on himself, trying to block out Tink’s voice while she explained to the lady…what had she said her name was? Why he was such a terrible choice.

He frowned at his knees, and tilted his face down, allowing his dirty straggly hair to fall in his face, shadowing it.

He tried not to jerk in surprise when she whispered a soft promise of returning, knowing it was an empty promise…

No doubt when she saw his file, she’d reconsider her choice.

He pressed his face to his knees, trying to hold back the tremors resonating through his body, as silence once more filled the room. There were only about five or so men in here at the moment…and most of them were staring at the ground, or snoring away, spending their days sleeping.

Then Zoso in the cell next to him, who most times talked to himself and sometimes to him, knowing he wouldn’t answer, broke his quiet spell of dark thoughts.

“She’ll buy you, that ‘un.”

Rumple glanced up sharply, his brow lowered dubiously.

Zoso was grinning at him.

“Oh yeah…that ‘un…she’s a soft touch. You can see it. Has one of them…bleedin’ hearts. I seen it in her eyes. She’s set on ya, boy. You may finally be in for a little luck in your poor unfortunate existence.”

Rumple closed his eyes, and lowered his head again, shaking it doubtfully.

“Just wait. You’ll see.” Zoso gave a little cackle, and lapsed back into silence.

Rumple leaned against the corner of the cell, and picked up a piece of straw and began to fidget with it, twisting it and braiding it between his fingers.

His hands longed for the fibers of wool that he once spent years spinning. It was one of the few things he’d had in his life that he’d truly felt competent in…something that was _his_ , even if he’d been forced into the craft.

He’d lapsed back into the deep pit of endless dark thoughts, all but forgetting the momentary glimpse of beauty and the hope that, against all odds, sprung into his chest…

“Rumplestiltskin!” An irritated, feminine voice snapped him out of his void, and he stared up at Solei, one of his least favorite of Mistress Ghorm’s team or sorceress slavers.

“I’ve called you twice already!” She hissed, her dark eyes glittering with anger. She was a very lovely woman, with her dark complexion and silky black curls…but the cruelty that she displayed towards the Dark Ones almost matched Mistress Ghorm’s and it darkened her beauty into something fearful and vindictive…and she especially disliked him.

He sprung to his feet, trying not to sway from weariness. It had been a few days since they’d bothered to feed him…though he’d noticed Zoso and a few of the others in this room had woken to breakfast yesterday.

“Well.” Solei peered at him with disdain. “It seems there’s a sucker born every day. You’ve been pruchased….by Lady Belle of the Marchlands, future regent of her kingdom. Girl’s an idiot if you ask me…” She shrugged. “At the very least, she has extremely poor taste.” She grabbed his dagger from its place outside his cage, and snapped her fingers, allowing the cage to spring open.

“Follow me…Mistress Ghorm wants you to clean yourself up for your new owner.”

Rumple followed meekly, his mind whirling at high speed, shock locking up his limbs to the point that he had to force himself to take each step.

Zoso shot him a triumphant smirk as he left the room and followed Solei through the larger room of Dark Ones, and into the next corridor.

She stopped outside the bathing chamber reserved for Dark Ones, and gestured sharply with the hand clasping the dagger. “Into the shower with you. There’s a set of clean clothes, and boots in there for you. Make yourself presentable…or at least as close as _you_ get.” She sneered. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

Rumple stumbled into the room, staring into the harsh lighting of the cement floor and walls. A single spigot was opposite him, underneath which there was a drain. There was a lidless toilet bowl, and a cracked, yellowed mirror above a single basin sink.

The blue-eyed woman had chosen him…him! What in all the realms could have possessed her?

‘Maybe she saw in you what Mistress Cora saw, what _everyone_ sees…a pathetic whelp that is easily crushed.’ A dark voice in his mind hissed.

He’d long ago come to the conclusion that the dark, insidious whispers that sometimes plagued him were an manifestation of the curse that bound him to his dagger. Perhaps even an extension of Mistress Ghorm’s darkness...sealed into the dagger as another way of tormenting him.

He stripped and stepped under the spigot, and pulled on the chain…allowing the cold water to wash over him. They never had warm water…weren’t worthy of it…but he was grateful for the chance to clean himself. He didn’t like being dirty and unkempt…but he only ever got to bathe when Mistress Ghorm required…his services.

He shuddered, and concentrated on using the pathetic little bar of harsh soap that hardly qualified as such, to scrub himself clean, even taking the slippery stuff to his hair.

Once he was rinsed off, he let the cold water run over his head for a few more moments, trying to make sense of his spiraling thoughts and emotions.

He struggled, still damp for he had no towel, into the clean leggings and tunic sitting over on the floor by the door…they were as raggedy and threadbare as the ones he’d previously taken off, but at least they were clean…then he stuffed his feet into the boots, which were a half-size too small, but at least there was no hole in the toe of the right one.

He moved to the sink, and rinsed his mouth out, wishing he had toothpaste and a brush…for all her faults, at least Mistress Cora had demanded he take meticulous care of his appearance and hygiene, despite the fact that she never allowed him out of the house or to even speak to the other servants.

Mistress Ghorm only cared about it if it affected her personally.

He ran his fingers through his hair; trying to untangle it and smooth the wispy strands…it was a tad too long, it could really use a trim…

“Hurry up in there!” Solei pounded on the door, startling him.

His hands flexed nervously, and he moved to the door, opening it and immediately lowering his eyes to the ground.

“Let’s go.” She spat, giving him an irritated look.

He was certain he’d been less than ten minutes…but he didn’t dare contradict her irritation.

He followed her, their footsteps echoing as they passed through the second kennel room, and he kept his eyes glued to the floor, refusing to meet the gazes of the men who sat in their cells.

They arrived at the Ceremonial Dagger room…a room he’d been in three times before. Once when he was first bound to his dagger…and the other times when he’d been purchased.

It was a large room with marble walls, etched with numerous runes. The runes were currently glowing with dark magic. The granite floor held sketched out runes as well in sweeping circles, the largest of which was at the forefront of the room. Behind it stood a waist-high stone alter, baring a large crystal globe that was swirling with dark blue smoke.

That was where he would stand…and eventually collapse in agony. He knew the orb was a conduit for Reul’s power…it helped her channel the boundless depths of her darkness…and the pain of the ceremony was amplified by its presence.

Tink and Plumeria were already present, lighting heavy cones of incense. It was Mistress Ghorm’s favored scent…a heavy, musky aroma that turned his stomach.

“Go on…get to your position. You know the drill.” Solei sneered.

He fought down the nausea that was already rolling through him, and moved to stand in the center of the largest rune circle.

He waited, his body tense, his eyes trained on his feet, until he felt that unmistakable dark presence fill the room.

He would know her from a mile away.

“Tinkerbelle, fetch the ladies. Plumeria, Solei, wait outside a moment.” She ordered in a short, crisp tone. “Leave the dagger with me.”

Rumple barely contained his grimace.

Reul was silent for a moment…and then she was standing directly in front of him. His dagger was in her hand, and she held it against his chin, tilting his face upwards.

Her eyes flashed with ire, and her lips were curled in a scowl.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed it once again. How you fooled her into thinking you’re a viable choice. You’re naught but a pathetic, broken shell of a man…” For a moment her fury broke free, and the apparent timeless beauty faded, leaving but the mask of a hideous monster.

And then it was gone, and she gave him a serene smile that never quite touched her eyes.

“But it is all of no matter. It won’t last…” She cooed softly. “It never does. You’ll come back to me, my little pet. She’ll grow tired of your…uselessness. She’ll see just how pathetic you are…and you’ll be back in my kennels, where you belong. No one ever keeps you. You are, after all, unlovable.”

He didn’t know there were words that could still hurt him…and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard her say such things before.

Still…his heart, which was all but shattered, splintered a tiny bit more.

Because he knew she was right. No one had ever loved him. Not even his own father.

She stepped away, the dagger falling to her side, as the door opened behind them once more.

Tink, Plumeria, and Solei entered…the two visiting ladies following.

Rumple didn’t dare raise his eyes to see that blue gaze, but he could feel her watching him all the same.

“Welcome ladies.” Reul purred. “We’re prepared for the ceremony. Lady Belle…if you’ll only hold out your hand…”

“I…” She faltered.

Rumple’s heart seized in his chest. Was she changing her mind already?

“About the pain…”

Reul tutted softly. “Not to worry…a tiny prick is all you’ll feel, and it won’t even hurt much…I use a spell to numb your hand.”

“Oh, no…forgive me, Mistress Ghorm. I meant…I mean, I’m concerned about the pain Rumplestiltskin will feel. Is there no way to circumvent that?”

Rumple’s head snapped up, and he stared at her, his eyes wide in shock.

She was looking back at him, her expression soft and hopeful.

Reul, however, looked as if she’d just swallowed an entire glass of lemon juice. Her mouth was twisted, her eyes narrowed and flinty, and her nose flaring.

Solei, Tink, and Plumeria glanced at one another, disbelief painted on their faces.

When had a buyer _ever_ cared about their Dark One’s pain before? Neither of his former mistresses had, that was for certain.

“I…” Reul actually faltered…and then she slowly pulled her mask back into place. “To be honest with you, Lady Belle, I’ve never _tried_ to by-pass the pain…it is the price of the curse changing hands. All magic has a price.” She said, somewhat sharply.

The dark-eyed woman with Belle clearly grew alarmed at Reul’s tone, and stepped up beside Lady Belle.

“Forgive her, Mistress Ghorm. She has a soft heart…she even refused to dissect frogs during her freshmen year of university…she has great empathy for all living creatures.”

Reul managed a tight smile. “Of course…” She gripped the dagger tightly in her hand, and Rumple felt her irritation transmit itself through the dagger, and pain radiated up and down his spine. “Well, dear…I can’t spare him the entirety of the pain…as I said…magic has its price. But…perhaps I _could_ lessen it…” And at this, she looked to Rumple, and squeezed her hand along the hilt of the dagger, her sharp eyes boring into him.

He heard the silent magical command…there was no one more adept at controlling the daggers as their original creator. It was _her_ curse…and she could transmit her wishes without ever opening her mouth.

He was sure Lady Belle had only good intentions…but he feared he would suffer all the more for it, and he would do so in silence.

“Your hand, Lady Belle.”

He watched, as Reul used tip of the dagger to cut a shallow slash in the beauty’s left palm, and he could feel it as her blood soaked into his blade.

Shivers raced up and down his spine, as his blood began to heat in an unpleasant way…the curse came screaming to the forefront of his mind, and he held back a moan of pain, his lips sealed firmly shut by magic.

Tink took her place behind the alter, within the rune circle there, and Solei and Pulmeria each took a rune on either side of him…Reul stepped into the one directly in front of him.

The three younger sorceresses began chanting, and green, golden, and pale purple energy shot up around them, as they focused their energy on the spell.

Reul herself was enveloped in a dark blue, pulsing light…her eyes narrowed and full of rage.

Normally at this point, he would have already sunk to the ground, groaning and writhing with agony. Instead, he closed his eyes, and stood stoically as pain pulsed through him, erasing his thoughts, wants, needs…hunger and thirst had no meaning…sadness, happiness…it all disappeared in the hot white light that burst behind his lids, as he screamed helplessly in his own mind.

Normally the transfer didn’t take this long…he knew Reul was drawing it out, for her own perverse enjoyment.

Slowly he sunk to one knee, his body beading with sweat, his shoulders taut with the strain…

And then finally, the onslaught relented, leaving behind echoes of its presence, as he panted softly, and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cold floor.

And then…it changed.

He gasped, as a gentle peace filled him, and the pain slowly began to leach away.  

He slowly peaked upwards…and saw that the dagger had changed hands…and was now in Lady Belle’s grasp.

It was…like nothing he’d ever felt before. A soothing balm. The malice, greed, and hatred he felt whenever most people, his former owners included, held his blade had vanished. The tingle of darkness tied to the curse still whispered in the back of his mind…but it was as if the voice was dulled by the mere action of Lady Belle’s tiny perfect fingers caressing the hilt of the blade.

He let out a slow breath, and dragged himself upwards once more, sitting back on his heels and trying to find his bearing.

“If you’ll join me in my office, Lady Belle…I simply require your signature on the contract.” Reul said, her tone dismissive.

“Of course. I’ll just be a moment.” She requested politely.

Reul turned on her heel and left, instructing Solei and Plumeria to return to their duties, and for Tink to wait outside the room for their guests.”

Rumple tried to stand, but found his legs were still trembling from the spasms of pain they’d endured.

And then she was kneeling directly in front of him, softly calling his name. Gentle fingers gently cupped his chin, and his wavering gaze met endless blue.

“You still felt a great deal of pain, didn’t you?” She whispered, her tone colored with regret and sorrow.

 He could not lie to his mistress, even if he had felt compelled to do so.

“Yes.” He whispered. His voice was gravelly from a year of misuse, his Frontlands brogue heavy.

“I’m so sorry, Rumplestiltskin. But I promise you…so long as I am alive, this dagger will never be used to hurt you again.” She whispered. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

Why would she ever promise such a thing? She couldn’t possibly speak truly…

He didn’t answer, just dropped his gaze.

She sighed softly. “I know you have no reason to trust me right now.” She set a hand on his trembling shoulder. “But I will do all I can to protect you…and be your friend.” She whispered.

“Belle.” Her dark-eyed companion stood next to them, giving her a sharp look. “Watch your words.” She hissed softly.

She nodded, her eyes flickering up to meet the woman’s. “Yes.” She rose, and encouraged him to stand as well, her hand never leaving his shoulder. “Come, Rumple.”

He faltered, staring at her in surprise.

It had been a long time since he’d heard that name…

His father had been the last one to use it.

It should be painful to hear…and yet, it sounded right, on her lips.

A tiny, shameful part of him blossomed happily, upon hearing it.

He tried to bury it deeply. He didn’t need to allow hope in to his heart. Hope that finally, maybe, he could be something other than miserable.

Even if she _was_ a genuinely good and kind person…even if she held true to her promise, of never hurting him…of being his friend…

There was no happiness for him in this world. His only chance at that had been ripped away from him years ago.

He followed behind as she walked beside her taller companion. They whispered softly together, and he blocked out all sound, still trying to come to term with the sudden change in his life…again.

He stood outside Reul’s office, thankful to have been asked by his new mistress to wait outside so that he would not have to face Reul again, and waited for Lady Belle to return.

Tink kept shooting him curious, amazed looks.

She was no doubt wondering, as he was, what had made Lady Belle choose him. He was no prize to look at…he was barely of average male height, scrawny and thin as a reed from malnourishment, with harsh, haggard features that appeared more aged then they were. He hadn’t spoken a word that could have interested her. And with his history…

Well, he couldn’t blame Tink for being mystified. He was still in shock himself. He was just as Mistress Ghorm described him…pathetic. Utterly useless.

Unlovable.

He was lost in his dark cycle of thoughts when she stepped outside the office once more, her cheeks pinked in irritation, and he snapped out of it with a surprised gasp when she called his name softly.

“Time to leave, Rumple.” She whispered.

Well, he wouldn’t pretend he’d miss the place. But he wasn’t naïve enough to believe he’d never return/

He could feel the cold burn of Reul’s gaze on his back, as he walked away.

Her darkness was like a permanent brand on his soul.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

He’d been taken aback, when he’d followed his new mistress and her friend to the sleek black limousine waiting at the curb outside of the complex.

He hadn’t even had the chance to appreciate that it was his first time seeing the blue sky and the sun in a year, before Belle had gently shepherded him into the waiting luxury car.

Only to be greeted by two new enthusiastic faces.

Lady Belle had cheerfully introduced them as two of her closest friends, along with the Lady Regina…Princess Snow White of Ulbany, and Ariel, a mermaid who’d emigrated to the land and was now engaged to a Prince in from a seafaring kingdom in the southern part of the realm. Lady Regina, she’d explained, was a fifth-in-line Princess as well, from Velimar, a province of Ulbany.

It only occurred to him then, just exactly the kind of Mistress he now had.

The future Regent of the Marchlands…he knew enough to know that the Marchlands was a powerful and wealthy kingdom…and played host to the largest University in the realm, attended by the elite members of society. Wealth, power, intelligence…

And his mistress was heir to all of it.

It was a bit overwhelming. His first mistress had been the daughter of rich merchant who’d lost his entire fortune not long after purchasing him for his daughter…his second mistress had once been the wife of some wealthy prince or another, but she’d been widowed, and eventually forced to leave her home by her daughter, who’d turned her back on her. She’d never spoken the name of the province, or even revealed her daughter’s name…but it was safe to say that by the time he’d come into her possession, she’d lost her claim to status, even if she retained quite a bit of wealth.

She’d found a way to change that, though…which had led him to be returned to Reul’s possession.

But Lady Belle was from the crème dela crème…she mingled with, and was part of, the highest of society.

Which brought to the forefront of his thoughts once again, the question of _why_ in all the realms she could possibly see anything in _him?_

It only deepened his distrust.

She had to have some ulterior motive. He dreaded the moment she finally revealed it to him.

The women had multiple shiny bags at their feet, and Lady Belle distracted them from their chattering inquiry of him, by asking what they’d found on their shopping trip. This launched them into happy chatter that lasted most of the trip to the Marchlands…

And that was another thing…as he watched the borders of the Frontlands fade in the distance, while the limo sped along the super highway, he realized it was his first time leaving the Frontlands in his entire life.

His heart, or what was left of it, throbbed in his chest painfully.

There was truly no hope, now. Not even the far off dream that he sometimes allowed himself to indulge in.

The Marchlands, he knew, was one of the larger kingdoms in the realm, and had a huge population, spread out throughout the cities, dry grasslands, marches, and seaside villages. He’d once gazed upon it on one of Cora’s books that held maps of the realm…he’d never been taught more than a few of his basic letters, and how to read his own name…but he’d overheard enough to know that Cora had coveted an alliance with the widowed Regent, Maurice.

And that he’d turned her down flat.

She’d proceeded to criticize and trash the Regent and his realm whenever she had tea with her acquaintances after that.

He knew the Regent held court in the capital city of Avonlea, and that he stayed there in residence year round.

So he was surprised, when the limo finally exited the highway, to find they were driving through a small seaside village.

They by-passed the village, and as they swung around, he was astounded by the sight of the mighty cliffs, and the imposing, beautiful estate there. But what really took his breath away, was the view of the rolling blue ocean beyond the cliffs.

“Welcome to Seaview Palace, Rumplestiltskin.” Belle said softly, offering him a smile.

Once outside the car, he stood motionless for several moments, simply taking in the scenery, his eyes following the waves that ebbed and flowed in a hypnotic pattern.

“Rumple?” Her soft voice caught his attention, and he glanced to his left to see her standing beside him.

She was staring at him in concern.

“I…I’ve never seen a sight like it before.” He whispered in awe. “When I was a lad…I glimpsed the port in my village a few times…but nothing like… _this_ …” He admitted, glancing back at the ocean.

She smiled gently, eyes shining with understanding.

“I’ll take you walking on the cliffs, and the beach. It’s peaceful…good for the soul.” She sighed, breathing in the ocean air.

By now, the sun had begun to set, and her guests had begun to take their leave, kissing their goodbyes. He watched, noticing for the first time that a tall, lumbering man had joined Ariel…he was older, in his late fifties, and he looked surprisingly at peace, despite the collar and bracers he wore, signifying his slavery.

The man gave him an understanding, gentle look, and then gently herded his mistress into her waiting town car.

Then only he and Lady Belle remained.

She held out her hand, and he stared at her for a moment, before allowing her fingers to lace with his, as his shoulders tensed in anticipation of what would come now.

“I retain residence here most of the year…occasionally I am called to Court, and have to spend a few weeks in Avonlea. Most of the time I’m here though…Seaview is a small village, and it’s people are kind.  My father comes to holiday with me occasionally throughout the year. I have a small but efficient staff that maintains the manor…it’s been in my family a long time.” She smiled at his wide-eyed stare. “Mrs. Gertrude Potts is the Head Housekeeper, and she manages the staff. Cogsworth and Lumiere are both Freemen whom I employ…they are the only male servants in the manor. All will welcome you and be good to you, I will promise you that.”

“Yes, mistress.” He whispered.

She halted her steps, causing him to freeze beside her, and she turned and stared at him, a rather stern glint in her eye.

“There is to be none of that. I don’t like the title of Mistress. My name is Belle. If you’re more comfortable, you may call me Lady Belle, for now, as my staff does. But eventually, Rumple, I’d like you to be able call me by my given name. Remember…you’re to be my friend, not my slave, even though I technically own you on paper. Am I understood?”

“Yes, mis…Lady Belle.” He cringed, expecting to be punished for the slip…but she only smiled.

“Thank you. Now come along…I expect Mrs. Potts has super waiting, and she gets cross when I leave it to get cold. We have a marvelous cook…and I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to put some meat on your bones.”

He tried no to salivate at the thought of food…and instead turned his eyes to the sky.

The first stars were just starting to peak out, as the sun sunk on the horizon, and his chest tightened.

Oh, but how long it had been…

“What is it, Rumple?”

His mistress seemed to be reading his moods…and figuring he had nothing to lose, he voiced his desire.

“Lady Belle…would it be possible…if I could stay outside? Just for some time? I…haven’t seen the stars in a long time.” He whispered, his tone colored with longing.

She blinked…and opened her mouth, then closed it, seemingly stunned.

Immediately he wished he could take back the request, and he barely held back a whimper.

She’d surely be angry with him now.

But then, she surprised him again…and would that ever end? When she smiled gently.

“Oh Rumple…you don’t have to ask me my permission. You can stargaze for as long as you wish. In fact, the room I intended to set you up in has a little balcony…you can sit out on it, after supper, and look into the stars for hours, if it pleases you.”

He stared at her, too stunned for words.

It had to be a trick. When would she drop this kind façade?

When would he learn what lay behind his new mistresses kind and beautiful mask?

It was almost more than he could handle. His nerves were frayed, after the day he’d had.

His cage was simple. Mistress Ghorm was simple. He knew what to expect out of those things.

Lady Belle was one conundrum after another. And it was screwing with his mind.

“Come along, Rumple. I’ll show you your new home.”

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle sat back, toying with her spoon and her empty stew dish, as she watched Rumple inhale his third bowl with gusto. She made a mental note to have the cook prepare the hearty lamb stew often…he seemed to really enjoy it.

But then, he hardly seemed to be focusing on the taste…

She wondered when he could have eaten last. He was severely underfed…that much was obvious. He had a slender build to begin with, and even at a proper weight, she couldn’t imagine him as a large man…his too-large clothes did a poor job of hiding his protruding collarbone, abnormally thin wrists, and the gaunt lines of his neck and face were obvious signs of his malnourishment.

For a moment, she pondered the Dark One curse…she knew the dagger didn’t make the men immortal. They aged, and changed just as the rest of the world…but being bound to the dagger _did_ keep them alive, for as long as their mistress (and in rare cases, master) desired it of them. She’d read up on the curse a bit, and knew the Reul had designed the curse to keep its recipient alive, even if they were ill, starved, or well beyond the normal age of expiration. It was rumored that she’d kept her first Dark One, her pet Ravier, alive until he was well past 150…

They would literally live as breathing skeletons, until their mistress either released them…or allowed them to die, by plunging their dagger into their chest.

It was a horrible existence, and it sickened her.

She sighed, as she watched him finally set down his bowl, and stare down into it with a strange look on his face.

She’d wanted to warn him, about over-indulging and making himself sick, when he clearly hadn’t eaten for a while…but she worried he would think she was displeased with his eating. She didn’t want to give him any reason to refuse to eat.

She had to step carefully around him for a while. He was so utterly fragile…so clearly damaged.

“Rumple…would you care for some hot tea? It might soothe your stomach a bit.” She said softly.

He glanced up, then looked down immediately.

“Thank you, Lady Belle.” He whispered.

She got up, and went to the tea service that sat on the sideboard…it was her mother’s set, carefully set out by Mrs. Potts.

She spared a smile, for the woman’s thoughtfulness.

Her mother’s tea service always gave her a tiny boast of courage.

She fixed him a cup, and carried it to him.

His hands shook a bit, she noticed, as he accepted the cup.

“Mrs. Potts is having your room prepared…it should be ready soon.” She said gently, standing at his elbow, watching him gulp the tea. “Is there…anything I can have her provide, for your comfort? Anything you wish for. Books, perhaps? We have a wonderful library.”

He stared at his tea cup…only the dregs of it remained.

“I…can’t read, Lady Belle.” He whispered shamefully.

She startled for a moment…and then immediately felt foolish.

Well, when would he have learned to read? When his father was selling him off, as a wee lad? Or perhaps when that evil, vile blue witch was training him to be the perfect slave.

“Well…that’s alright. I…could teach you, if you like. Later. When you’re settled in and more comfortable.” She said gently.

He nodded, but didn’t look as if he believed her.

She sighed. “I’ll pour you more tea.” She offered, reached for the cup.

He pulled back. “No, please, my Lady… _I_ should be serving _you_ tea.” He played with the handle of the cup nervously.

She shook her head forcefully.

“You don’t have to serve me _anything_ , Rumple.” She reached for the cup, her fingers snagging the rim. He pulled back on it, quite insistently. “Don’t be silly, Rumple. Give me the cup!”

He released it instantly, and she was so surprised, she let go as well…and the cup tumbled to the ground, a tiny tinkling sound indicating that the cup was damaged.

“Oh…” She felt a bit of sadness grip her…the cup was part of her mother’s set…

But she blinked as Rumple threw himself to the ground, reaching for it with violently shaking hands, a soft sob building in his throat.

“I’m…so sorry, Mistress. Sorry…useless…useless and worthless…” He whispered, holding it up as if it were the most precious of gems. “I’m so sorry…it was the command…I didn’t mean it…it was the command…” he was close to hysterical now, and Belle frowned, thoughts of the cup itself disappearing.

“Rumple…” She whispered, kneeling beside him. “Rumple, it’s ok…it’s just chipped.” She took it from him, and twisted it for him to see… “See? It’s just a cup…and it’s a tiny chip…you can hardly see it. The cup’s still usable. It’s not your fault…I shouldn’t have tried to insist on taking it anyway.”

He was still shaking, soft sobs escaping, and she set the cup aside, gently taking his face in her hands, and brushing the pads of her thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears.

“It’s OK.” She cooed. “I’m not angry. It was an accident…nothing more. The cup is one of six…it’s not even that much of a loss, even if it was no longer usable.” She soothingly shushed him, allowing his momentary hysteria to calm.

Finally, after several long moments, he began to calm.

Something stuck out in her mind, though, and she couldn’t let it go.

“Rumple…” She began softly, drawing his wet gaze upwards. “You said…it was the command. What did you mean, by that?”

He inhaled softly through his nose, and then lowered his gaze again.

“You…ordered me to release the cup. I had no choice.” He whispered.

She furrowed her brow. “But…I didn’t even have the dagger in my hand…” She felt helpless. Somehow, she’d caused this whole mess.

He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s sealed with blood magic. Your blood. The dagger forces me to obey your command, even if you’re not holding it…as long as it’s anywhere near you.” His eyes darted to the dagger, which she’d carelessly laid on the sideboard when they’d come in the room.

Belle sat back, eyes wide. “Oh Rumple…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that. I supposed I don’t know as much about the Dark One curse as I should. This whole thing is my fault.” She stood up, and sighed, as she looked him over.

He knelt on the ground still, disheveled and quaking, looking small and broken.

“I’ll ring for Mrs. Potts…she’ll show you to your room. You can watch the stars for as long as you like…or sleep, if you wish. The choice is yours.” She watched, a few moments later, as Mrs. Potts gently ushered him out of the room.

She sat, and held the chipped cup in her hands for a while after that, staring blankly across the room at the horrid blade.

For the first time that day, it truly hit her, just how difficult this was going to be.

Rumplestiltskin was a shattered soul, and she didn’t even know where to begin, to pick up the pieces.

But she wouldn’t give up. She hadn’t known him for more than a few hours…but that first glimpse into his eyes told her that it would be worth it.

He would be worth fighting for.

 

To Be Continued~

In the next chapter, Belle tries to come up with a plan to deal with the dagger, Rumple waits for the other shoe to drop with his new mistress, and Belle begins to try and gain her Dark One’s trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try not to make the wait between updates so long this time, pinky swear! Just remember, I did warn everyone at the beginning that i'm not a once a week, every Thursday updater...especially when i'm going to be orienting at a new hospital in a few weeks, and I no longer have so many chapters pre-written. But I will do my best to do more then once a month updates. Love to you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and kudos! And your patience, as well. As i mentioned to some of my lovely readers, I started a new job, and the orientation has been very time consuming. Plus I've had my nephew for the past few weeks, and entertaining a nine year old with boundless energy is draining ^.^ But the good news is, I was blessed with a gift from my father, a brand new computer! Mine crashed some time ago, and I've been sponging off his...but he surprised me, and I've had so much fun exploring it! I thought i'd hate the touchscreen feature, but it's pretty awesome. But all chatter aside, I hope you enjoy the next installment of the story! :)

Chapter 4

 

_“Look at this slop! I wouldn’t feed it to the pigs out back! You’re completely worthless!”_

_He flinched, as his mistress knocked the little tin pot off the wood-burning stove, spilling the contents on the cracked linoleum of the cottages’ kitchen floor._

_She turned around, her pale blue gray eyes shining with disgust and loathing. Long dark curls fell around her shoulders, and if it weren’t for the cruel sneer on her lips and the harshness around her eyes, one might call her beautiful._

_“Forgive me, mistress.” He whispered, hunching over and trying to make himself as small as possible._

_“God! Of all the dark ones in the world for my father to saddle me with and then off himself, why did it have to be you? You pathetic worm, go on, go to your spinning wheel. It’s the only thing you’re halfway decent at. The least you can do after burning my breakfast is earn a wage of some sort.” She muttered, pushing past him, sending him crashing into the wall as she stomped out._

_He winced, and stared down at his long callused fingers._

_Oh why had he allowed himself to get distracted picking mushrooms? He should have been paying attention to his mistress’ breakfast, but he’d been so caught up in finding a fertile mushroom patch growing along the western edge of the tiny property that his mistresses’ dilapidated cottage sat on. He’d been excited at the idea of preparing a mushroom stew; he could bulk it up with the bits of beef tongue he’d managed to bargain for at market, and the snap beans he’d picked from his pathetic attempt at cultivating a garden._

_He’d lived in this cottage with his mistress for two years now, and poverty was a harsh mistress who taught him many new lessons; lessons he hadn’t learned in his years with the Blue Fairy. Lessons like spinning wool, and weaving to try and earn a living to sustain his mistress, as well as gardening and darning clothing and shopping the_ _bazaar_ _on a very tight budget._

_It had taught him other lessons as well…lessons that he tried to black out, but only emerged to haunt his dreams. Nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat, and kept him tossing and turning when he eventually did fall back asleep._

_The three months they’d spent, shacked up in a tiny room in a tavern while his mistress found means to purchase their little cottage, would haunt him for the rest of his life. But he supposed that part of his life really couldn’t be differentiated from the rest of his miserable existence._

_When he heard the cottage door slam shut, he shuffled over to the spilled porridge, and began cleaning up the mess._

_Had Mistress Milah checked the basket that sat beside his spinning wheel, she’d have noticed that the basket was already full of spools of thread. He’d spun all night, filling an order from the town alderman’s wife, whom was expecting twins and had a great deal of sewing to do._

_He exhaled softly as he cleaned the last of the ruined oats, knowing his mistress would take the cost of the waste out of his own meager food portions._

_He had just finished ringing out the rag he’d sopped up the mess with, crouching over their slow dribbling tap, when he felt a sharp whack round his head. It sent him sprawling to his knees, and he sat there for a moments, stunned._

_“I told you to spin, you useless thing!” Obviously Mistress Milah had forgotten her purse of coin…very little else would drag her out of the pub before she’d had even one drink._

_He closed his eyes and listened to her shrill berating, until finally she once more left, this time with her purse, their meager supply of money jingling within it. Her last shouted command was an order to finish laundering her dirty clothes. They couldn’t afford one of those modern washing machines, and so he washed everything himself by hand._

_She was angry enough to spend it all. He’d have to spin through the night again, in order to purchase necessities at market tomorrow, even with the coin he’d earn from the alderman’s wife._

_His hands shook, as he tried to find the strength to stand once more._

_Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he could just die._

He woke with a gasp, and sat up, sweating and disoriented. He was lying on the cold stone ground of the balcony attached to his room.

His room. What a mind-boggling notion that was.

He hadn’t had a room to call his own for…well his entire life, he was certain. His papa had always told him, when he was a wee bairn, that as a babe he’d slept between him and his mama in their bed. Then when it had been just he and his papa, well, they’d been lucky if they had a cardboard box to stave off the cold of the streets they slept on. On the rare occasion, his papa would manage to scrape together enough coin for a room in a seedy tavern, but even then, the little bed was barely big enough for papa, who’d take it for himself and fold his grubby coat over twice and settle Rumple on it in the corner.

He’d spent over a decade sleeping on the floor of a cage at the compound, and then, over a decade sleeping on spare straw and threadbare blankets, curled by the hearth in Mistress Milah’s tiny cottage. Then of course he’d gone back to the compound.

He _had_ spent occasional nights in Mistress Cora’s bed, when she’d order him to stay after he serviced her…something neither Mistress Milah nor Mistress Ghorm had ever done, but he’d always been too tense and miserable, lying beside the softly snoring older woman, to even imagine finding some rest on the soft feather mattress.

So when he’d been shown to the small but comfortable room by the warm, smiling head housekeeper, he’d been more then stunned.

She’d explained that it was a room adjacent to Lady Belle’s, one that was meant for a Lady’s maid, though she outright refused to acquire one.

The room had a bed big enough to comfortably sleep two of him, if not three, with warm linens and a coverlet that Mrs. Potts’ had happily told him she’d quilted herself. It was a hobby of hers, in her spare time.

There was an empty wardrobe, a desk and chair with a writing secretary organized carefully atop it, (and who on earth would he write to, even if he knew how to sketch out his letters?) a fireplace to warm the room during what Mrs. Potts explained, could be fierce winters. And a door to the left of the little balcony led into a washroom outfitted with a claw foot tub, shower stall, toilet, and sink. Even a mirror, a proper one with a lovely gilded frame.

He’d protested immediately, explaining all he needed was a space in the kitchen by the fire, maybe a spare blanket it they could manage it…

Why would his mistress extend such kindness in giving him these accommodations?

Mrs. Potts had leveled a look at him, and explained that Lady Belle had requested this room for him specially, and she would be disappointed to here he was refusing it.

That shut him up, and she’d gone right back to her cheerful self, informing him that breakfast was normally served ‘round nine, but the cook could put a plate aside for him if he choose to sleep in, and showed him the little pull rope that summoned her or one of the other servants, should he need to ring for tea or help of some kind.

“Lady Belle isn’t much of a morning person, won’t catch her up with the birds, if you know what I mean, but she usually puts in an appearance at breakfast; which she has served in the kitchen, by the way. She enjoys a nice meal in a simpler setting in the mornings, and often enough, some of the servants will join her. Cook always puts out a nice spread, and you could certainly use some meat on those bones, so do try and join us when it’s hot and fresh.” That was her last instruction before seeing closing the door behind her, and leaving him to stare around, feeling overwhelmed and a bit emotional.

He’d sat on the bed for a while, trying to get used to the comfort of the mattress; it was soft, but just firm enough, and he recognized the pillows, all stuffed with goose down. Mistress Cora had a pillow like that, he’d fluffed it often enough.

But he’d been restless, a maelstrom of confusing thoughts filling his mind.

He’d tried the handles of the double doors, covered by thick heavy forest green drapes _,_ and found it unlocked. The doors led out to the small balcony where a small round glass table sat, in the center of which sat a fat beeswax candle on a little pedestal. Two iron chairs, upholstered with soft cushions in pale yellow, flanked the table. A wind chime hung from a hook, softly singing in the ocean breeze.

The sight of the dark sea beyond the cliffs was breathtaking…but he paid it little attention. Nor did he admire the furnishings, or even the sweet sound of the chimes.

No, all he could see was night sky…the heavens, lit up with thousands of burning stars.

The view was a million times better than it had been in the Frontlands. He’d spent many a summer nights, during his years with Mistress Milah, sleeping outside beneath the stars. It had suited Milah just fine, and the grass had been more comfortable then the cold floor by the hearth.

He’d attempted to sleep under the stars when he’d been purchased by Cora, but the moment she found out that it brought him even the littlest bit of joy, she’d forbidden him from even leaving her home at night.

He’d sat with his back pressed to the wall of the balcony, and stared up at the stars, tracing the constellations with his eyes as his papa had taught him to do, a lifetime ago. It had been Malcom’s way of distracting him from the cold, when they slept in alleys and under the bridge, and helped put him to sleep.

He hadn’t even realized when he’d slipped into sleep, or that he’d slumped to the ground in an uncomfortable position, laying on his side without pillowing his head with his arms.

Climbing to his feet, he looked up at the sky, noticing the gray of predawn, and shivering at the chill in the air.

He was stiff from his awkward sleeping position, but he didn’t regret falling asleep under the stars. He only hoped Lady Belle didn’t scold, it wouldn’t do to upset her a day into her ownership of him. He’d already made a fine mess of things last night, chipping her beautiful tea cup…

His previous mistress’ had never bothered to sugarcoat it when they’d rebuked him for his oafish tendencies; he was clumsy, stupid, and useless. It wouldn’t take Lady Belle long to see it as well.

As he stepped back in his room, he noticed a tray sitting on the little side table beside his bed. He approached it cautiously, and saw that the teapot was still steaming, and the little plate of biscuits was still warm.

It couldn’t have been there for more than five minutes. He could only guess that Mrs. Potts had checked on him, seen his empty bed, and assumed he was awake. She’d have left the tray, he was almost certain of it. She seemed the motherly sort, he supposed. Not that he’d ever known a motherly figure before.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the tray for a few minutes, trying to decide whether he should partake in it or not. Would Lady Belle be unhappy that he did so? He’d already made a pig of himself at supper last night.

Finally, his grumbling stomach and the knowledge that breakfast was several hours away won out, and he poured a cup of tea and snagged a biscuit, swearing he’d just have the one.

Then maybe he’d steal into the bathroom, and have a hot bath; he’d never had one before. He may as well try and experience it now, before Lady Belle realized what a colossal mistake being so very generous with him was.

He wasn’t worthy of such kindness.

She’d come to her senses, soon enough.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle was up with the sunrise, an unusual occurrence for her. She had never been a morning person. She was a night owl, preferring the evenings to read and work on research and papers.

But she’d tossed and turned last night, unable even to distract herself with her latest paper for the university; a comparison of two contemporary authors and their various works.

She sighed, as she styled her hair in a simple up do to combat the heat, and slipped into a light, airy knee-length muslin skirt in pale blue, a sleeveless white cotton blouse, and a pair of beaded sandals.

She sat on her balcony for a time, relaxing in the rocking chair her mother had once sat in while she rocked her to sleep, and watched the swirling ocean.

What could she possibly do about this dagger? The thing was so very wretched, she didn’t even want it around the house, but it wasn’t as if she could just throw it away. It may be bound to her by blood, but that didn’t mean she wanted it to end up in just anybody’s hands.

There was a quiet sound at the door, and then Phillipa made her way in, carrying a stack of clean laundry. She did a double take when she saw Belle wasn’t in bed, and immediately called for her.

“Milady?”

“Out here, Phillipa.” She replied, and her maid set the laundry on the bed and stepped outside.

“Lady Belle, it’s unusual to see you up and about so early.” Phillipa was young, and was the newest servant in the household. She’d come looking for work when she turned eighteen, desperate to help support her family, after she lost her father to illness, and her eldest sister ran off with a Freeman stable hand, avoiding the marriage her mother had been trying to arrange for her. She had six younger brothers and sisters, and her mother made a meager living as a laundress.

She was a plain girl, but very sweet and mild mannered. And Belle happened to know she shyly stared after the gardener who came to manage Seaview’s estate. He lived in the village, and was only a few years her elder, and had a genuine green thumb.

“I was restless.” She shot the young girl a smile.

“Shall I bring up a tea service, milady?” Phillipa asked, eyes wide. She often was intimidated around Belle, despite Belle’s attempts to soothe her. She knew Phillipa had expected a scullery position at best, and hadn’t intended on interacting with nobility of any kind.

Belle sighed, but nodded. “Please have Mrs. Potts bring it up.I need to speak with her.”

“Yes, Milady.”

Belle stood up and walked to the edge of the balcony, and rested her hands along the stone wall. She took a deep breath, the smell of the ocean in the air a familiar balm to the soul.

“Lady Belle.” She turned to see Mrs. Potts standing at the door, and wondered how long she’d been lost in her thoughts. “You wanted to see me?”

She nodded, and stepped inside, closing the double doors behind her.

“I’m in need of your opinion.” She sighed

Mrs. Potts frowned, and set down the tea service she’d been holding, going about the almost automatic process of preparing her Lady a cuppa.

“Opinion?”

“What do you think of Rumple?” Belle asked, watched the matronly woman’s face carefully.

Mrs. Potts brow furrowed, and she took her time thinking over her answer.

“He’s timid. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, that one. He carries the demeanor of someone who’s constantly awaiting his next beating or berating. Reminds me of a freeman I once knew, my neighbor’s husband. She was an abusive wretch, and the poor man often walked around with a blackened eye or swollen cheek. Flinched when a woman even talked to him.”

Belle frowned. “You think Rumple’s been physically abused?”

“Well, I'm no professional therapist, but the boy definitely has his demons. Physical or mental, the lad’s probably been abused.”

Belle’s heart had begun to thud painfully. She knew Rumple was very broken...but she hadn’t even contemplated the thought that he could have been physically abused.

She supposed she should have. There were a fair share of women in the world who viewed their Dark Ones as possessions, rather than people...and Dark One abuse was legal, under Reul Ghorm’s rule.

“Bit of an odd duck, as well. He slept out on the balcony last night, you know. Brought him some tea when I looked in on him after I rose myself, and his bed linens had nary a wrinkle; and he was out cold, laying sprawled in a very uncomfortable fashion.”

Belle frowned. Rumple had slept out on the cold hard ground? She remembered he’d asked about star gazing, but had he really slept out there?

“Was that all, milady?” Mrs. Potts gave her a knowing look, anticipating that her assessment of the newest member of their little family wasn’t the only thing she was after.

She went to her bureau, where she’d stashed the dagger, and pulled it out.

She wasn’t expecting Mrs. Potts to flinch and dart her gaze away, her shoulders hunching as if she’d suddenly shouldered a terrible burden.

“You know what this is?”

The woman seemed to struggle to find her words, and she nodded.

When she finally returned her gaze to Belle’s, Belle was shocked to see they were shimmering with pain.

“My only son...Charles. We called him Chip. He...he was enslaved and bound to one of those horrid things.” She whispered.

Belle dropped Rumple’s dagger in shock. “Oh Mrs. Potts...I’m so sorry. I...never even knew you had children.”

The elder woman twisted her hands in her apron, and stared at the ground where the dagger lay, her face pale.

“My Gavin passed away twenty-eight years ago. Chip was just eighteen. He went to find work on a fishing boat; we lived in a small port town in the Frontlands. Things worked out well for a few months, he made an almost decent wage...” She sighed, her eyes misted in memory. “Then a storm ravaged the boat, and its’ captain grew desperate, and he sold half his crew to the Blue Fairy for the funds to fix his boat. Chip was among those sold. I begged Reul Ghorm to let pay off his debt, but I didn’t have the funds, and she wouldn’t accept a payment plan. The last time I saw my boy, that woman was holding his dagger, ordering him into a cage, and he had a collar and bracers just like Rumple’s.” Her voice warbled. “A year later, I went back. I’d saved up a nice chunk of money, and gotten a few loans from friends. I had enough to make a purchase, but he was already gone. Sold to someone. It violated company policy to tell me who.” She sniffed softly. “Two years after that I came here. I couldn’t stay in my home anymore; I needed a clean break from it all. It was too heartbreaking, I was bogged down by depression. I found work with your mother, arriving just in time to help raise the most beautiful baby girls I’d ever laid eyes on.” At this, the woman turned a sad, but fond look on her. “Watching over that little scamp helped heal my heart, even if it will never truly be whole again.”

“Oh Gertrude.” Belle sighed softly, and moved forward, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known sooner. It must have been so painful to bare that secret for so long.”

The housekeeper returned her embrace. “I keep myself busy, and it helps not to dwell on it. I wish I could have saved him, but even more then that, I just hope that he found a decent mistress; someone who is kind to him, and has a good heart. Like you.”

They held the hug for a few moments, and then Belle pulled back. “I want to help Rumple, Mrs. Potts. He’s so very broken. I don’t know where to start. But I do know that something needs to be done with that dagger. The wretched thing makes practically anything I say to him an order, and it doesn’t even have to be in my hand to do it. I’m not even sure how long it’s reach is. How far away is far enough? Where could I keep it?”

Mrs. Potts frowned. “Seems to me that if it’s that important to you, maybe there’s a way to magically bind and hide it. I don’t know much about magic, but there was a hedge-witch who dolled out healing potions in my village when I was young....at least until the Blue Fairy heard word of her. She packed it up and disappeared into the woods one day and never returned. But perhaps you can find someone like that here?”

Belle’s eyes lit up. “That’s an excellent idea, Mrs. Potts! And I know just who I can ask.” At the woman’s curious look, she waved it away. “It’s not important. In the meantime, please, say nothing about what we discussed to the rest of the staff.”

“Of course. And as far as your other problem goes; how to start helping him, might I suggest taking him into town, visiting the shops? The lad has nothing to call his own, not even a change of clothes. Having a few things to call his own might go a long way in making him feel a bit more human.”

Belle’s eyes lit up. “Mrs. Potts, you’re brilliant!” She pulled her into a tight hug, and kissed the woman’s cheek boisterously. “That’s a perfect idea! You’re simply full of marvelous ideas this morning, I’m so glad I have you to confide in!”

“Oh, go on you. Drink your tea, breakfast will be served at the usual time.” Mrs. Potts’ pinked cheeks were the only sign that she appreciated the praise. She bustled out, smoothing her apron as she went.

Belle beamed to herself, as she sipped her favorite morning blend.

Maybe it was a meager beginning, but it was beginning all the same. Having a few basic comforts that everyone deserved, though she highly doubted he’d ever been given, may help her earn his trust a bit.

And she wanted his trust desperately. 

She stored the dagger back in her bureau, and pulled out a notepad and pen, and began to make a list.

They’d need to visit the town’s only little department store, and fill his wardrobe; new shoes, he’d definitely need those, maybe they could visit the barber, he could certainly use a trim and a decent shave...

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Rumple peeked around the kitchen doorway, his eyes timidly darting back and forth.

It was larger than Mistress Milah’s entire cottage, and double the size of Mistress Cora’s kitchen, but he was surprised that it wasn’t nearly as modern as Cora’s had been.

Cora had to have the sleekest, most expensive appliance and decor. Though not many of her snotty friends had realized just how close she was too broke, in his last days with her. Which was why she’d sought out a rich husband so desperately. Apparently, from the whispers of her servants, she’d burned through nearly all the funds left to her by her late husband, and her estranged daughter wouldn’t even accept any initiated contact between the two.

But this kitchen had an old world feel to it, though it was outfitted with appropriate appliances, and he found he liked the homeliness of it.

He felt eyes on him, and glanced over to see Lady Belle sitting at the head of the long, old wooden table, that was spread out with a lovely meal.

A few servants were already at the table, which could easily seat ten though the long wooden benches that were in place of traditional chairs gave it a more informal feel, and they were already tucking into their meal.

His stomach grumbled, despite having polished off the biscuits earlier, and the smell of the bacon was pure torture. It was easier to be hungry when you hadn’t stuffed yourself sick with food the night before.

“Rumple, join us please!” Belle called pleasantly.

He was compelled to do so, which made his shoulders tense, but his hunger over-ruled that caution, and he sat down on the end of the bench closest to her, where she’d gestured.

She gave him a warm smile. Her plate was already filled, with eggs, toast, and some kind of unidentifiable mixture that smelled amazing.

“Help yourself, whenever you’re ready. There’s plenty of hot tea as well, or milk if you prefer it. Cook made my favorite hash brown casserole...it’s made with shredded potatoes, cheese, onions, and bit of ground sausage. It’s delicious, so do try it if you wish.” She was using her words carefully, he could tell, trying to prevent herself from making it a command.

He frowned. He’d expected her scorn. Surely Mrs. Potts had told her of his weird nocturnal behavior. Why hadn’t she ridiculed, or admonished him over it yet?

He glanced at the other staff members, some of whom he’d met the night before, such as Cogsworth, the butler, and Phillipa, the maid, and some whom were new faces. They all were happily eating, and none of them watched him as if expecting an entertaining show; the way the servants had at Cora’s every time she’d beat him, or given him a tongue-lashing. Hushed conversation was exchanged here and there, and he was passed a kind smile every now and then.

Nervously, he accepted a helping of eggs when Mrs. Potts passed it to him, and his gaze darted to Belle. She was watching him with a gentle smile.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked softly.

He nodded quickly, and scooped up a helping of the casserole to keep his hands busy. Otherwise, they would be fluttering about nervously.

“I’m glad. I have a few plans, there are a few things I’d like to take you into town for. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you wish, Lady Belle.” He whispered, before shoving a bite of the potato mixture into his mouth.

It melted onto his tongue, and he almost let loose a sigh of pure bliss. The cheese and sausage and...oh the tender onions.

This might be the best thing he’d ever tasted, though he’d certainly felt the same about the stew last night.

He heard a quiet ‘clink’ and looked up sharply, and realized it had been Lady Belle, setting down her teacup.

And he realized, in silent mortification, that she was using the cup he’d chipped the night previously, even though everyone else drank from more practical plain white porcelain cups.

She caught his burning, humiliated gaze, and her eyes touched on the cup.

And he watched, amazed and truly confused, as she gently fingered the rim of the cup, stopping just short of the chip, and sending him a fond smile.

Then she went back to eating her breakfast in a smooth, lady-like fashion.

He shoved another mouthful of casserole into his mouth, and stared down blankly at his plate.

How long would she play these games? What did she want from him?

Would he ever understand her?

 

To Be Continued~

In the next chapter, Belle takes Rumple out on the town, Rumple continues to be shocked and dubious of his mistress, Belle gets a call from her father, and makes a phone call of her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! Thank you so much to all of you who've been so very patient! I could give you a million reasons on why this took so long, but the long and short of it is, i've been crazy busy this past month. Whenever I am at home, i'm usually sleeping...other then that, i'm at work, or on the go. To all of you hanging in there with me, I appreciate you so much! I promised I won't abandon this story, and I stand by it, I just hope you all can bear with me at times :) Thank you for all the reviews and kudos, as always, every one means so much to me! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Chapter 5

 

“Milady?”

Belle looked up from where she was seated at her desk, her fingers flying over her keyboard as she tried to finish the rough draft on her current paper. The head of the English department at Uni was waiting for the paper, but she’d simply been too distracted to try and finish it last night.

“Yes Philippa?”

“Mrs. Potts wants to know if she should have Lumiere prepare the town car for your trip to the village. She assumed you would not want to walk, considering you'll likely have several packages."  

“That is excellent foresight on her part. Yes, please have Lumiere prepare the car in an hour. I should be ready to go by then. And please send Rumple to me, if you see him.”

She hadn’t informed her Dark One about their shopping trip, only hinted vaguely at her plans. She hoped it wasn’t too overwhelming for him. She worried that breakfast had been overdoing it as it was; he’d scurried from the room as if the very demons of hell were on his tail, the moment the meal had ended.

He couldn’t get away from her fast enough, and she felt a curious tightness in her chest over the knowledge.

She sighed, and closed the covert of her computer, before folding her arms over it and resting her head atop them.

She didn’t know how to handle him. She understood nothing of his past, and the traumas he’d obviously endured, but there had to be a way to bridge the gap that existed between them! She so wanted him to trust her!

But then, maybe she was expecting too much, too soon. He’d been in her care for less than 24 hours. Trust wasn’t earned over-night, she needed to earn it from him. And that took kindness, actions, and time.

Struck with inspiration, she pulled out a small notepad that she often carried in whatever clutch she was using, and sketched out a little note.

A trip to the bookstore in the village was in order.

She was just about to go looking for Rumple herself, when the ivory handled old fashioned phone sitting on her desk, that Regina and Aurora both teased her about endlessly, gave a shrill shriek.

Her brow furrowed, but she picked it up. This was the only direct line in the house...the historical act had been bent only enough to have one land line installed in the palace.

“Hello, Lady Belle speaking.” Not many people had access to her number, at that, so she wasn’t taken by too much surprise when her father’s booming voice met her ears.

“Blue-bird! How are you, my little chick?”

She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth pool in her chest. While her mother had always been the more ‘hands-on’ parent when she was growing up, her father had never failed to give her love and, as her mum often accused, spoil her a bit.

And he demonstrated that love every day, by continuing to serve as Regent when by all rights, she should have taken over three years ago. It put him in a perilous position, but he knew Belle’s feelings on the matter...she’d never had the desire to rule, she only wished to continue the life she already lived...maybe with a bit more traveling thrown in. And he was a _good_ ruler, which is why her mother, the rightful Regent, had long been a figurehead, while he ran everything behind the scenes. The Marchlands were prosperous, they had the highest rate of educated nobles and peasants alike, and had some of the lowest poverty rates in all the realm. Her people were mostly happy.

She hated to think of taking her father’s position; he loved leading their people. It was not fair that, because of an evil sorceress on a power trip, one day soon he would have to surrender that duty.

But then, there were endless things about this world that were unfair, and the proof of that now resided under her roof...and he was so badly damaged, she didn’t know if she’d be able to repair him.

“Papa.” She spoke with love and genuine warmth. “I’m well. How are you? How is everything in Avonlea?”

“Oh, the same, blue-bird...not much changes here, this old man just grows ever more ancient.” He joked.

She laughed. “Nonsense, papa! You’re just past fifty, you’re not old!” She scolded. “Speaking of which, I do hope you’ve been taking your blood pressure medication and following the diet the physician put you on! Young or old, you must make your health a priority!”

He chuckled. “Are you the papa or am I? Don’t worry, little chick. My new personal assistant, Mrs. Hawkins, is more of a nag then you, and she practically shoves the pills down my throat and checks every plate put before me.” He exaggerated a groan.

She frowned. “I didn’t know you had a new assistant, Papa. What happened with Granny?”

The Widow Lucas had been her father’s assistant for as long as Belle could remember, and he’d spoken of her with the affection of a mother, even if she were only ten years or so older than he.

“Ah, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling you. Fear not, I didn’t fire Granny. But the poor dear was sickly for a time, and I had to hire a temporary replacement...that’s where Mrs. Hawkins came in. She has a young son, Jim. A fine young lad, 12, I think; a bit of a scamp but smart as a whip. Anyways, she’s a young widow herself, and Granny interviewed her personally. But the physician doesn’t like how Granny’s lungs healed, my dear. He’s suggested that she move to the seaside, and live in retirement. Of course I offered her an accommodation of her own, but she won’t hear of it; insists she needs to look after _something_. I know you enjoy your smaller staff, and Gertrude rules the roost there, but would you mind terribly taking her in? Of course, young Red will be joining her grandmother as well, when the school semester is out...she’s a Junior at Uni, I believe.”

She blinked. Sometimes she forgot how fast her father could speak.

“Of course I don’t mind taking them in, Papa. There’s more than enough room. I think Granny and Gertrude will get on fine, though there might be a bit of power struggle at first, they’re both such strong, opinionated women.” She giggled.

“I’ve no doubt you can handle the two of them, blue-bird.” She could picture that fond smile stretching across his face, his eyes crinkling.

“I can send Lumiere for Granny, whenever she’s prepared.”

“No need, little chick. I’ll see to her transportation. Expect her by the end of the week. And now, I have a few questions for you.”

She frowned. “Of course, papa. What is it?”

“I received word that you finally purchased a Dark One. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, my little blue-bird. I know how much you loath the very thought of such things. It turns my stomach as well...but you’ve also put my mind at ease. I know it’s quite the sacrifice for you, and your people appreciate it.”

She sighed. A sacrifice on her part? Hardly. She wasn’t the one who was bound the a cursed blade...her will in the hands of another.

“Blue-bird?”

“Yes papa.” She said, sadly.

“Tell me about him.” Her father’s voice was so gentle and comforting, it made her want to cry.

“Well.” She paused, and bit her lip, glancing at the door. “His name is Rumplestiltskin. And he’s...well he‘s so very damaged and broken, Papa. He was bought and returned twice, and I think both mistresses were very cruel to him. He was sold to Reul Ghorm as a child papa. He was only 7, and his father sold him for a profit! He’s been a slave most of his life! He’s 34, and he’s spent 27 years being crushed beneath the weight of horrible women. How do I help him heal, papa?”

“Oh blue-bird.” Her father sighed. “I’m no head doctor, you know that. But i’m afraid you may have taken on a challenge that even _you_ can’t surmount. A spirit so very abused...well, it won’t be easy, that’s for certain, my sweet.”

Belle bit her lip, and hung her head.

“That’s what i’m afraid of.”

As if sensing her discouragement, her father suddenly injecting his voice with a dose of cheerfulness.

“But if there’s _anyone _ who can do it, it’s you, Blue-bird. You’ll never know, until you try.”

That brought a smile to her face.

“Thank you, papa. Will you come visit soon?”

“I may have room in my schedule early next month. I’ll set Mrs. Hawkins on it, and bring her ‘round as well. You can meet the little lad, and see what you think of him. Little trouble maker, i’ll say, but we’ll make a fine young man of him yet!” He chortled.

She smiled. “That sounds wonderful. And the Rose Ball is still coming along on schedule for the end of next month, correct? I’ve marked it in my calendar, and plan to be there for the week.”

“Right as rain, little chick. Your people will enjoy seeing their heir, that’s for certain. Seeing you is always good for their morale.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled none-the-less.

A soft knock drew her gaze to the door, and there he was, her little ghost of a Dark One, peeking in.

She motioned for him to join her, as she exchanged a few more pleasantries with her Papa.

“Alright Papa, I’ll talk to you soon. I love you too.” She smiled and hung up the phone, turning to Rumple, who watched her warily from across the room, having sunk into the corner by the fireplace.

“Rumple, won’t you come sit?” She asked gently.

He glanced between her, and the chair she was pointing to across the desk from her. Finally he nodded, and shuffled over to the chair, sitting down and lowering his gaze to his feet.

She sighed. “Rumple, I’d like to take you into the village with me, if you’re okay with it? You’re very much in need of some proper clothing that fits you and, to be frank, doesn’t look like it’s going to fall apart, and not to mention a decent pair of shoes. And I’m sure you could use a few toiletries, as well. And if you’re comfortable with it, we could visit the barber and have you cleaned up a bit; I’m sure it’s been some time since you’ve had a decent haircut. You may keep your hair as long as you like, of course, but it _could_ use a trim. But I won’t force you to do any of it.”

He stared at her with open astonishment.

She tilted her head, her eyes questioning.

“Rumple?”

His mouth worked for a few moments, as he tried to think of something to say. He’d never been a good conversationalist, and most of his life had been spent in obedient silence.

He’d learned that if you kept your head down, and didn’t argue back, his mistresses were less likely to unleash their anger on him all the time.

“Why?” Was all he could come up with.

She frowned, her nose wrinkling. His chest tightened, and he tried not to think about the fact that despite his fear of her...she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And her confusion was adorable.

“Why would you care about doing any of that for me?” He whispered, flinching as the words came out.

Who was he, to question the will of his mistress? But he’d spent the last several hours coiled in tense anticipation, waiting for her to reveal the true facets of her personality.

_Why_ had she wanted _him_ of all people? What did she have planned for him?

She sighed and cast him a sad look, once more catching him unaware. She leaned forward, and took his hand in hers, gently cupping it between her palms.

He stared down at their combined hands, unable to process the tender contact.

“I know you don’t trust me, Rumplestiltskin. And why should you? All you’ve known is cruelty your whole life.” She leaned closer, despite the desk between them. “I’ll tell you a secret, Rumple. I didn’t want to take a Dark One. I’ve never believed in slavery, man or woman.”

He frowned at her, not bothering to hide his confusion.

“I had no choice, you see. The Blue Fairy’s power is too great, and wide-spread. She holds far too much control...and the longer I refused to take a Dark One, the more her eye was drawn towards the Marchlands. I suppose she considers it an insult, when a noble woman does not desire a slave.” She curled her lips, a small sneer there.

Such a look did not belong on her face.

“For the sake of my people. For the sake of my father, I capitulated to the demands of society. I’m not proud of it, but as they say; the needs of many are greater than the needs of one.” She sighed softly, her eyes finding his whiskey orbs.

He stared at her as if he’d never quite seen anything like her before. She was used to it. She’d long been considered a bit of an odd girl.

“But even though I own you on paper, I do _not_ consider you my slave. I want to help you, Rumple. I want to be your friend; and if I can, even a little bit, help banish the shadows and demons that haunt you. I want you to be happy and at peace here. You do not have to fear my wrath or retribution...when you’re safe within my home, and my kingdom, I want you to consider yourself a Freeman. You don’t have to ask me for permission to do anything. If you want to sleep under the stars on your balcony, feel free. If you want to stuff yourself until your ill, please, do so. There is more than enough food to go around. If you want to spend all day down on the beach, watching the ocean and walking and swimming in the waves, I don’t mind one bit.”

He couldn’t quite grasp what it was she was telling him. It was all so overwhelming

She couldn’t possibly _mean_ it, could she?

‘No. Don’t trust her. Not yet. You can’t let yourself hope. Hope is bad, it’s only ever crushed.’ His heart and his mind screamed at him, as painful memories flashed through his mind.

He’d had hope of love, real love, once; and it had been snatched from him.

He didn’t deserve good things, or love. Life had taught him that harsh lesson.

“Yes Lady Belle.” He whispered obediently, giving her the answer he was sure she desired.

But when he glanced up, there was still sorrow painted on her pretty features.

And why did that hurt so very much?

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

He hadn’t been sure what to make of this shopping trip in the beginning, and now, he was thoroughly dumbfounded.

Lady Belle had escorted him down to a shiny black town-car, where Lumiere waited to drive them into the village. She confided that she normally preferred to walk, but thought it would be cumbersome to walk back with all their parcels.

She smiled at him gently the whole ride, but he could see the strain in her eyes.

It was coming, he knew. She’d grow tired of his uselessness. Mistress Cora had taken less than a week to grow weary of him...Mistress Milah, a little over a month.

He supposed that the older he got, the less tolerable he became.

He sighed miserably, and stared at his feet.

They’d gone to the barber first. He was a big man, with a thick mustache and a shiny bald head. His booming voice had startled him, and he’d shrunk away from the man at first.

Lady Belle had gently coaxed him into the chair, where the man had washed his hair with some kind of thick soap that made his hair smell like cloves, and then he’d trimmed along the ragged edges, and thinned the hair that hung in his face a bit. When his hair had dried, it had been shiny, and looked neater than it had in over a year.

Then the man had lathered his face and neck, and used a straight razor to shave him. Afterwards, he’s dashed on some aftershave, a luxury Rumple had never enjoyed before.

To say that he felt somewhat invigorated by these little comforts was an understatement.

Lady Belle generously tipped the barber, and they were off to the department store.

She’d shooed him into a changing room, and handed him numerous pairs of slacks and denim jeans. The slacks were high-quality, and much nicer than anything he’d ever worn before, and he wasn’t wild about the unfamiliar denim, but he kind of admired how they fit, and when he showed Lady Belle at her request, she’d chattered on about how marvelous they looked.

Then she choose numerous button down shirts, and even a few casual vests, and while he wasn’t certain about _those_ , Lady Belle insisted they were very fashionable at the moment to wear over plain cotton t-shirts, and that he looked very becoming wearing them.

Their next stop in the store was the shoe section, where he was fitted with a pair of sturdy, comfortable boots that _actually fit him_. And to his shock, Lady Belle insisted on him getting a pair of fine leather dress shoes as well, before escorting him to the Men’s evening wear section.

“I’ll be going to Avonlea at the end of next month. The annual Marchlands Rose Ball will be held that week, and if you’re to accompany me, you’ll need a suit. Ohh, this one is very dashing!” Her eyes lit up as she fingered the cumber-bun of the dark gray suit. “What do you think, Rumple!?”

He felt like he was one gulp of air away from a panic attack. Him! At a ball! Why on earth would she ever think to take him to a ball!?

“Rumple?” She looked concerned now. “Are you okay? Just breath, alright? Tell me what’s got you so panicked!”

He stumbled a few steps away, dragging in deep breaths.

“Lady Belle...” He gasped. “Why...what would make you think I’m fit company to bring to a ball?” He felt like a cornered animal.

She frowned. “Rumple.” She stepped closer, and he jerked away at first, anticipating a slap.

Instead, her hand gently settled along his jaw, and she soothingly rubbed her thumb up and down its sharp edge.

“I happen to think you’ll be perfectly fine company for a ball. And I want you to travel, Rumple! I’d like to take you many places with me! You’ve spent so long being cooped up in darkness. You deserve to step into the light. I’ll be away in Avonlea the whole week. To be honest, I’d worry about you too much to leave you behind. But...” She faltered. “If you don’t want to go, truly don’t, then of course, I won’t make you.”

And damn her if she didn’t look so very crushed over it!

His heart beat a rapid tempo in his chest.

He found himself not wanting to disappoint his mistress. And this time, for whatever reason, it wasn’t because he feared her retribution.

He just hated to see that sad look on her face!

“I...” He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. “The, um, gray is very fine, Lady Belle.” He whispered, lowering his head, and cursing himself for missing the gentle warmth of her hand on his face when she lowered it.

She beamed, and his chest was tight again.

She motioned over one of the attendants.

“Have him fitted for the gray one, please! With that lovely plum waistcoat, I think. Yes, you’ll look quite handsome, Rumple!” She said cheerfully.

He grimaced, but banished it before she looked back at him. No one would ever accuse _him_ of being handsome, that was for certain!

After an uncomfortable fitting, where the attendant shot him the occasional curious look, he followed his lady out of the store, two attendants trailing after them carrying their purchases.

Lady Belle directed them to the town car, then shepherded him towards the village pharmacy, where she told him they would pick up some toiletries for him.

Upon noticing her, the store’s proprietor hurried over, all smiles.

“Lady Belle! What can I help you with!?” She exclaimed, then took notice of Rumple, and her eyes went wide with curiosity. Her gaze touched on his collar and bracers, and Rumple immediately lowered his eyes to the ground in submission.

“Hello Anita! Where’s Perdita?” The Dalmatian wasn’t usually far from her owner’s side, unless she was with her mate, Pongo.

“Oh, Roger took Perdita and Pongo to the beach for the day, they needed some sunshine and exercise. Perdita’s pregnancy is coming along beautifully, we will be teeming with puppies soon enough!”  

“Oh that’s lovely.” Belle smiled, her eyes soft. “I adore puppies.”

“Well if you’d like one, when the time comes, we’d be happy to send one home with you!” Anita offered, eyes shining with mirth.

Belle laughed. “Well I shall have to discuss that with my staff first. You know Mrs. Potts is a meticulous housekeeper.” She said with a conspiring wink.

Anita laughed, and picked up a little wicker basket, handing it to Belle.

“Is there anything particular you’re shopping for today, milady?” She asked, eyes touching on Rumple again quickly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Anita, this is Rumplestiltskin. He’s the newest member of my home.” She gave Rumple a warm look. “He’s in need of some toiletries. Shampoos, soaps, maybe a nice shaving kit if you have one? Anything you think he might need, he has nothing of his own. All of it can go on the palace tab. If you could help him, I would so appreciate it. I’m just going to pop over to the café, and send an e-mail to Uni. The head of the English department has been waiting for a paper from me for over a week now.” She shook her head, a wry grin on her face.

Anita nodded, eyes wide. “Of course, milady! Rest assured I’ll find him everything he needs!”

Belle turned to Rumple, who looked at her with mild panic.

“Don’t worry…I’ll be back in less than ten minutes.” She stepped closer, and smiled at him, trying to comfort him. “Anita is very kind. You’re in good hands.” She set a gentle hand on his shoulder, and tried not to take it personal when he winced.

“Yes Lady Belle.” He whispered, but his lips were pressed into a tight line, and there was stark fear in his eyes.

Belle wavered, considering staying for a moment, but she firmly shook her head.

He would never trust her, if she couldn’t find little ways to prove she was worthy of that trust. She would never leave him with someone whom she worried would treat him unkindly.

He stared at the floor, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists, after Lady Belle left.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

He glanced up, to see the woman giving him a curious, but friendly smile.

“Shall we get started?”

He nodded, not wanting to displease the unfamiliar woman.

“Very well. What kind of shampoo would you prefer.”

Well, he’d never been asked a question like that before. There were different kinds?

Why would he prefer one over the other? They all ended up performing the same function, didn’t they?

“It…smells like cloves.” He finally forced out. “The barber used it in my hair. It was, um, nice.”

She beamed. “I know just the one. Anton buys all of his products here, after all. Did you find yourself enjoying anything else he used? He’s a big fan of a particular shave cream and aftershave.” She took up the basket she’d meant to hand to Belle, and secured it on her arm, before ushering him down the first aisle.

She began filling the basket, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as they went, and he watched as she selected numerous bottles in different shapes and sizes.

“Lady Belle asked for a shave kit, and this is the finest we have. Have you used a straight razor before? If not, I’m sure one of the men at the palace can show you. You’ll need a comb, of course, or do you prefer a brush? Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash and floss.” She ticked items off on her fingers, humming softly as she selected one of everything.

Anxiety was clawing at him. Why was his mistress wasting her time spending so much money on him? Why did she care that he owned clothing or soaps or fine suits?

He was a Dark One. He was lower on the food chain than a stray dog. What did he need fine suits and leather dress shoes for?

“Rumple?”

His head jerked up in shock when her gentle voice invaded his senses once more. She was staring at him with concern.

“You look ready to bolt again. Are you alright?”

It was then that he realized that he was standing in the middle of the little store, while Anita had continued on to the counter and was ringing up and bagging all of his items.

And Lady Belle had returned, just as promised.

“Come, Rumple.” She said gently, once more pressing a soothing hand against his jawline; and lord help him, the panic squeezing his chest slowly began to dissipate.

“I have one more place I’d like us to go, if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head, unable to find a response. She gave him a tender look, and then took the bags Anita handed her, exchanging a few words of farewell with the other woman before leading Rumple out.

It turned out, that the other place she wanted to visit, was a bookstore.

He stared around at all the books, a bit wonderstruck.

The little store was…comforting. He found he quite liked looking at all the books, each one just a bit different from the next. Different colors, different textures, different lengths.

He liked the smell of the store. Old paper and ink.

He glanced at his mistress, and found she had a particularly glow about her.

She obviously liked it very much as well.

“Lady Belle!” The old man behind the counter greeted her with gentle enthusiasm. “Have you come to fill my register again!? But you were just here last week!” He teased.

She laughed. “I have a few particular requests for you, Master Bookkeeper.” There was true affection in her voice.

He grinned at her, peering over the edge of his spectacles. “Well, have at it then.”

She handed him a little list, and he hummed, scanning it.

“I think I can accommodate most of this; whatever I don’t have, I can order.”

“Excellent.” She turned to him. “Is there anything you’d like, Rumple? What kind of books do you enjoy?” She asked, as the shop keeper bustled into the back.

Sweat beaded at his brow, and he felt shame burn inside of him.

“I…don’t have a favorite, milady.” He whispered.

She beamed. “Neither do I. I could read anything and everything. The written word fascinates me. I’ve always believed that so long as you have books, there are endless worlds to be discovered, and endless friends to be met.” She laughed. “I suppose I sound silly, but I’m quite passionate about reading.”

He stared at the floor, his cheeks flushed.

“I meant, milady, that I don’t read. At all. I can’t. I never really learned my letters, outside of my name.” He whispered.

She fell silent, and it took him a moment, but he managed to steal a glance at her face.

Instead of disgust or annoyance, he was surprised to see a gentle sadness in her eyes.

“Oh Rumple.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, gently running her fingers over the pale skin there. “If you’d like, I could teach you to read.” She said gently. “It can be very enjoyable.”

He stared at her in astonishment.

She wanted to teach him to read? Why would she waste her time and effort?

“Only if you would like to, of course.” She assured him.

She looked so hopeful. He didn’t see the point, but if it was something she wished him to do, he didn’t have it in him to deny her.

And he wouldn’t admit to himself that it wasn’t just because he feared her anger or disappointment.

“I would like that, milady.”

She beamed, and turned to the shelf, scanning it. She selected several books, and set them on the bookkeeper’s counter.

When he returned, he had a few books of his own, and informed her that he had to order only one of the one’s she’d requested, but that he should have it in less than a week.

She thanked him, took her bag of purchases, and led him out of the store.

The ride back to the palace was quiet, and whenever he glanced at his mistress, she seemed lost in thought, her teeth worrying the pink flesh of her lower lip.

He hoped he hadn’t caused her too much distress on this trip.

When he finally was back in his own room, the multiple bags containing all their purchases, he allowed himself to slump to the ground, and rest his head against the wood post of the bedframe.

His new mistress stared at him with tenderness, bought him clothes, and wanted to teach him to read.

She had yet to raise her voice to him, let alone her hand. But he’d been there barely a day.

Could he trust her? He didn’t know. Trust was a fragile thing, and his had been broken so very long ago, and so very many times.

But every time she gave him that warm, beaming smile, his traitorous heart dared to hope that this time, maybe it would be different.

He closed his eyes, and thought of an innocent brown gaze, the same shade as his…staring up at him so very trustingly.

He’d broken that trust as well.

So who was he, to deserve such kindness?

No one. He was no one, and nothing. And not worthy of Lady Belle’s warm smiles.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Pott’s voice floated through, informing him that he’d missed lunch, but that there were the fixings for turkey sandwiches and fruit salad in the kitchen if he was hungry.

His stomach curled, as he felt the darkness claw up and consume him, filling him with doubt and self-hatred.

He didn’t deserve to eat, or sleep on soft mattresses, or wear fine clothes.

He was a failure. Unloved, and useless. A coward. A sniveling little worm.

It was all he’d ever been, and all he’d ever be.

Even beautiful blue eyes and warm, sunshine smiles couldn’t change that.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle sat at her desk once more, sipping at the tea Mrs. Potts had left with her moments before.

She’d already briefly thumbed through one of her newest purchases from the bookstore. The one about helping abuse victims cope with their pasts.

She’d been right to guess that helping Rumple wouldn’t be easy.

But she could do it, she was certain.

Maybe she couldn’t change the world, and society as a whole...but if she could save just this one man, and make certain he was happy for the rest of his life, she would feel as if she had truly accomplished something.

Leaning forward, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey Regina.” She smiled to herself as her friend answered. “I know you were just here yesterday, but I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor.”

_“Does it involve your Dark One?”_ Her friend’s honeyed tone was slightly teasing.

“How did you know?”

_“A hunch. Tell me, dear, what do you need?”_

“Well, I require a specific skill set…one only you can provide for me.” She phrased the words carefully, but she knew the older woman picked up on her meaning immediately.

_“Well, now I am intrigued.”_

Belle smiled to herself, her thoughts lingering on the dagger.

“I knew you would be.”

 

To Be Continued~

When next we join our dearies, Belle and Rumple have their first reading lesson, Regina makes plans to come to Seaview for another visit, and Granny Lucas arrives! Also, we have a special guest appearance by someone Belle’s not entirely fond of. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I got another update in before the 1 month mark! That's an amazing accomplishment, considering I don't have a computer right now. The brand new one I got had to be sent back, and they were sold out and couldn't send me a replacement. So it's back to computer shopping for me...which takes me FOREVER. ugh. anyone have any recommendations? nothing Apple. lol. but anyways, i'm sponging off my dad's computer again, whenever i'm at my parent's place, so my writing time is limited. But stick with me! I won't abandon this story, promise!   
> As always, thank you for the lovely comments and kudos! They make me so ridiculously happy!

Chapter 6

 

“Are you going visiting again, love?”

Regina glanced up from the valise she’d dug out of her closet. She really needed new luggage, this set was ancient and beyond out of style. Perhaps she’d go buy some before heading south again.

Her husband was standing in the doorway. He probably didn’t even realize how he was hesitating, before entering the room.

A left-over habit from his life as a Dark One. He sometimes waited for her permission to enter a room, and in his darker moments, sometimes he even hesitated to touch her unless she encouraged it.

She gave him a small smile. “I am. A short trip to Seaview, this Friday. I thought perhaps you’d join me, if you like? I’m going to stay a day or two. I know you enjoy the sea air.”

His brow rose. “I thought you just saw Lady Belle yesterday?”

She nodded, and ran a hand through her hair.

“I did. But she’s asked me to return. She needs my help.”

He ventured into the room, his eyes scanning her warmly.

“Is she in trouble?” He was rather fond of the Lady Belle. She’d been imperative in forcing Regina to face up to her feelings for him.

He’d never believed he could be happy again after his enslavement, until he’d become Regina’s Dark One. Knowing that she loved him as he loved her, well it would have been enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life, even if she’d never released him and asked him to be her husband.

“Not trouble, per say.” She sat down on the bed, pushing aside the valise, and gesturing for him to join her. She gave him a searching look. “There’s something I didn’t mention.”

He frowned, and sat beside her. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Her lips stretched into a tired smile. She never let down her guard around anyone but him, never let her perfect mask slip even an inch. He supposed that was a skill all people who were raised in nobility and royalty possessed.

But he knew she’d been tired lately, and he worried for her health. But she was such a strong, independent woman; he knew she would wave his concerns away.

“We took a trip to the Frontlands, during our visit yesterday. Belle finally broke down and purchased a Dark One.”

He blinked, and sat back, his eyes wide.

“I thought she was so against it.”

“She is. But you know the position she’s in. Her father’s been a nervous wreck for years, about the Blue Fairy paying increasing attention to their Kingdom. She considers it a personal insult, when a lady of high-breading and wealth doesn’t own one of her slaves.” Disdain dripped from Regina’s lips.

“So she finally gave in.”

“At our urging. All of us, even Snow, encouraged her. She couldn’t risk her people, Robin.” He knew his wife felt the need to defend her friend, and he placed a hesitant, placating hand on her knee.

“I don’t think less of her, love. She’s in an influential and precarious position. She must think of her kingdom. I understand that. And I think I’ve come to know Lady Belle a bit…she isn’t the type to be cruel to her Dark One.”

“No, not at all.” Relief flickered across his wife’s lovely face, her crimson painted lips pulling up into a rare, true smile. “In-fact, the reason she’s asked me to come has to do with finding a way to magically bind his dagger. Her Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, he’s a timid little thing. Maybe four or five years older than you, love. He’s clearly been very abused by his mistresses; he’s had two previous, and the Blue Fairy’s owned him since he was a boy…”

Robin looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing.

“There were whispers about him. He wasn’t at the compound during my time there, but some of the other Dark Ones spoke of him. He was Reul’s favorite pet. She enjoyed hurting him, and ‘training’ him the most. She was furious when he was finally purchased, and took it out on several other Dark Ones. You bought me before he was returned the first time, I’m guessing, because I never saw hide nor hair of the man.”

Regina sighed. “He’s somewhat unremarkable in appearance, but Belle see’s _something_ in him. I think she wants to save him. I’ve never proclaimed to fully understand the dear girl, as much as I love her. I honestly don’t know if she _can_ save him. He’s little more than a shell.” She stared off into the afternoon sun, which shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom.

“You never know. If there’s anyone who’s compassionate and patient enough to help a broken Dark One, it’s Lady Belle.”

She glanced at him, and gave a little smirk. “I suppose you’re right.”

“What were you saying about binding the dagger?”

“I’m not certain. She wouldn’t go into details, only that she needs my skills as a sorceress. I don’t even know if it’s honestly possible, but she’s already deep into her research. If anyone can find a way, it’s Belle.”

“Hm. An interesting theory.”

“Indeed.” She stood up, and bent over, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Will you come?”

It had been some time, since he traveled. He’d grown up running the forests with his father, and during his first years of enslavement, he’d craved his freedom more then he’d craved a decent meal.

But since earning his freedom, he was often loath to leave Regina’s family estate. Deep down, a small part of him feared falling back into the hands of the Blue Menace.

His beloved wife was a talented sorceress, but he wasn’t sure she was up to par with Reul Ghorm and all of her lackeys put together. He knew first hand their terrible power.

But he was fond of the sea, and there was a great deal of charm and old-world feel to Seaview Palace. Not to mention Lady Belle employed one of the best cooks in the realm.

“Yes.” That earned him a radiant smile, and if nothing else, that made going worth it.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

“Lad, the Lady has asked you to join her in the library.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up, eyes wide, as Mrs. Potts found his little hiding spot in the garden.

He was tucked into the corner, just beyond the climbing rose trellis, his back to the wall, just off the main cobblestone pathway and out of sight.

He liked this spot. The roses reminded him of Lady Belle, as she always smelled of them. And despite his misgivings about her, and her intentions, her scent was comforting, and pretty.

The soil was rich and loamy, and the grass vibrant and green even in the peak of summer, surely due to careful, meticulous maintenance by the gardener. And it was cool, the shadow from the trellis providing a reprieve from the sun.

And it was quiet, and for the most part, deserted.

Mrs. Potts was staring down at him, a soft frown on her face.

“Are you alright, lad? No one’s seen you since breakfast. Have you been sitting here all morning?”

He shrugged, and twined his fingers in the soft grass.

“I like it here.” He murmured, waiting for the scolding.

But the matron just clucked her tongue gently, and fluffed her apron as she gave him a somewhat fond smile.

“Bit of an odd duck you are, lad. But if you enjoy it so much, I could see to the gardener installing a bench here, so you don’t have to dirty your new clothes.” She nodded decisively. “It can be your own little thinking spot. I prefer the kitchen by the hearth, myself, and the Lady, well, everyone ‘round these parts knows she finds her solace in the library. Yes, that will do just fine. Now up with you, lad. Cogsworth is waiting in the kitchen, to show you to the Library.”

He stared after her, as she continued on her way, his eyes wide with shock.

How could everyone in the household be in on the game?

Shaking his head, he stood up and brushed off the back of his slacks. They were slightly damp, and he still felt odd to be wearing such fine clothing, but he had to admit, he felt a bit better when he didn’t look like he’d just crawled out of the gutter. Particularly in Lady Belle’s fine house, with her neat, meticulously clean and tidy servants.

He found Cogsworth in the kitchen, as Mrs. Potts had said. The man gave him a quick once over, and nodded, though he looked a bit haughty about it.

“Come along then, boy.”

Rumple felt odd being addressed as ‘boy’, and ‘lad’, considering he was in his thirties. But he supposed he was young, in comparison to the older servants that seemed to dominant the household staff.

Cogsworth picked up a tray with multiple silver domes in various sizes, and nodded to Philippa, who stood by. She picked up a second tray, holding a tea service.

He followed them through the winding halls of his new home, to the west wing of the manor. His bedroom was on the second floor of the west wing, as was Lady Belle’s. But they bypassed the second floor, continuing up the next flight of stairs that he hadn’t even realized was there, up to the third floor.

He stared openly as they stepped of the stairs and onto the landing.

The _entire_ third floor of the west wing was comprised of a library. The very _walls_ were filled with shelves and shelves of books, stretching up high, nearly to the ceiling. Multiple tables, two marble fireplaces, and numerous high-backed leather armchairs gave the room a cozy feel, and four floor-to-ceiling windows were spaced out, two on the north wall, two on the south, the bright sunlight filling the room. They were framed by heavy velvet curtains in a rich blue, with gold tie-backs.

He didn’t even realize his mouth was hanging open as he gazed around in awe, but he knew immediately that this room intimidated, and impressed him, more than any place he’d ever been.

No wonder his Mistress loved it so.

He watched Cogsworth set down the tray on the table nearest one of the fireplaces, Philippa following.

“Milady, you know you make us nervous when you climb so high!” He called out, lacing his fingers and staring anxiously upwards.

Rumple followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped for a second time in so many minutes.

There was his mistress, balanced on one of the many rolling ladders placed along the walls, and she was _so_ very high up! She was perched not far from the top shelf, her head almost brushing the ceiling, and Rumple felt his shoulders tense, anxiety welling up inside him.

His mistresses’ safety and well-being was one of his primary objectives, the need to protect and have her safe ingrained in him by the very curse that bound him. But aside from that natural instinct, it occurred to him that it wasn’t just his curse that worried for her…his heart had started beating just a bit faster as he observed what a very long fall it would be, should she become unbalanced. And he was calculating how fast he would have to move, in order to catch her.

Since when did _he_ worry for his mistresses’ safety? The concern that was curse-related, well he’d felt that before. But he’d never felt that tug in his heart, the fear that she would be hurt.

But she turned, and smiled so very brightly, and he calmed a bit as she expertly descended the ladder, balancing perfectly even in her sleek little silver shoes with the tiny heels and the ankle-straps.

He had to admire how very pretty she looked, in her blue linen dress with the brown leather belt. Her  curls were held back with a simple blue ribbon, and her face was stunning, even mostly-bare save for a soft smudge of color on her lips.

“And _you_ know I’ve been scaling these ladders nearly as long as I’ve been walking! Don’t be such a stiff, Cogsworth!” She teased gently. “Has cook made us lunch? How lovely!”

“Gertrude thought you would enjoy having lunch up here today.” Cogsworth answered, ignoring her little tease.

“How very thoughtful!” She turned to Rumple, and beamed. “Rumple, I’m so glad you came! Let’s have lunch, and then if you like, we can start your reading lessons! Oh, you haven’t eaten already, have you?” She immediately looked concerned. He noticed she was holding a book tightly to her chest, and the cover was brightly colored.

“No, milady.” He answered meekly, dropping his gaze.

“Excellent!”

“We’ll leave you to your lunch then, milady.” Cogsworth offered a stiff bow, and Philippa followed him out.

“Will you join me, Rumple?” She sounded so darn hopeful; he didn’t have it in him to say no, even if he had wanted to.

He may be doubtful about Lady Belle’s true intentions, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a measure of peace around her. She was warm, and so far, she had been kind. So even if it didn’t last forever…even if she turned cruel, he would try to appreciate this brief reprieve from the abject misery of his normal life.

“As you wish, milady.” He replied, chancing a glance up at her, and watching her smile blossom into something that was so bright, it almost hurt his eyes.

“Do you like my library, Rumple? You may come here whenever you please, of course. It’s the oldest library standing in the Marchlands, and there is a wide-range of subjects to choose from. I have books from as distant as the Far-East, and even a selection from Atlantica! Books from beneath the sea, created with mer-magic! Can you imagine how excited I was when Ariel first started giving them to me as birthday gifts!” She gushed.

She gestured for him to sit, and began removing the domes. Two large bowls of some kind of creamy-looking soup, two hunks of crusty looking bread, and two plates filled with colorful and delicate greens, dressed in a creamy dressing, and layered with delicate slices of steak. It was dotted with ripe, jewel bright tomatoes, red onions, and crisp cucumbers.

“Oh this is lovely.” She glanced at him, as he stared at the plates with stark-hunger.

He still ate like he wouldn’t get another meal, and she immediately worried that maybe she should ring Cogsworth and have him bring more soup.

“Have you ever had clam chowder? It’s one of my favorites. And the dressing on the steak salad is blue-cheese. It’s a big tangy, but it’s delicious! I hope you don’t mind your steak medium-rare. Oh, I’ll serve the tea, shall I?” He watched as she went about pouring two cups of tea, and she generously sweetened his with honey and a slice of lemon, which made him flush brightly.

She’d payed attention to how he’d taken his tea. What type of Lady cared how her servant…her slave, took his tea?

She passed him the cup, and prepared her own, adding a bit of milk and one cube of sugar.

He felt a strange tingle run down his spine when he realized, once more, she was sipping from the chipped cup.

He allowed himself to eat only after she’d begun, and spooned up a large spoonful of the soup.

The moment it landed on his tongue, he once more had a new favorite taste. The soup was heavy, and rich, and silky to the taste. He’d swallowed half the bowl before he remembered that he was trying _not_ to eat like an animal in front of his mistress. He managed to slow down, but just barely.

He’d been hungry for so very long.

He’d devoured the salad, soup, and bread, and dumped a second cup of tea down his throat, by the time the lady had just finished her salad and half her soup.

She smiled over at him, hardly offended, and pushed the other half of her soup towards him with an encouraging smile.

Mistress Cora would have back-handed him for inhaling his food, and had, several times. Mistress Milah would have spat in his face before she offered him _her_ portion of a meal.

But Mistress Belle smiled, offered him her soup, and poured him more tea.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to comprehend how a person could be so _kind_. It _had_ to be a farce. No human cared so openly, and unconditionally.  

If he’d learned anything in his life, it was that humans were, in general, selfish and cruel.

When lunch was finished, and his belly was full; even if he still felt the clawing ache in his gut that told him he needed to eat _more_ while the food was available, Lady Belle led him over to the table closest to one of the south facing windows.

The afternoon sun warmed him, and his full stomach made him sleepy, but he snapped to attention as Lady Belle laid the book she’d previously been holding on the table in-front of them.

He stared at the bright colors on the cover, and noticed the yellowed pages as she flipped it open.

“I learned _my_ alphabet from this very book, when I was small. It’s how my mother taught me to read my letters. We’ll start by learning to recognize the letters individually, and then move on from there. I bought the practice pads so you can write out lines, but that’s a bit further down the road.”

He stared at her, dumbstruck.

She really meant to teach him to read.

She smiled, but he could see a bit of doubt flicker in her eyes.

Finally, he gave a tentative nod, and turned his attention to the book.

She leaned forward, and flipped the page.

“So we’ll begin, at the beginning! This is the letter A…”

And so the afternoon went.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle felt her eyes flutter open, as she swam upwards from her sleepy state of dreams.

She felt warm, and quite content, and she was surprised to find she’d fallen asleep curled up against her sweet Dark One, and her head was pillowed on his shoulder.

She fought against the current that tried to pull her back into her comfortable cat nap, and glanced up at Rumplestiltskin’s face, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

His eyes were closed, and his face lax, his lips parted slightly as a soft, quiet snore whispered through. His hair shadowed half his face and he looked a bit younger in his peaceful state.

Her stomach tightened, and she pondered the butterflies that had suddenly sprung to life.

She pulled herself upright, and stared around, trying to guess at the time.

The sun was setting, she could tell that much by the light coming in from the windows. She couldn’t remember nodding off to sleep, only that she’d been watching Rumple try to fight his yawns as they worked their way through the alphabet, with a fond smile on her face.  

They’d spent the past three afternoons in the library, learning the alphabet, and numbers as well. Rumple was very bright, and he picked things up quite quickly. She could remember struggling with the end of the alphabet when she’d first been learning; and he’d flown right through that. Today they’d been working on isolating the constantans from the vowels, and sounding out long vowels and short vowels.

They’d started each session with lunch, todays being a rich pot pie that Rumple had polished off two-thirds of, and followed by apple crumble topped with vanilla ice cream. Rumple had only just discovered his sweet-tooth, having admitted to Belle that he’d never had a sweet in his life before.

Belle’s heart broke a little every time she watched him eat, and he’d bashfully told her, at her comment on his enjoyment, that she could feed him gruel and crusts of bread and he’d happily devour it.

But it seemed they’d napped the afternoon away, she realized as she finally zeroed in on the grandfather clock across the room. The last time she’d looked at it, it read three…now it was close to seven. She expected Cogsworth or Lumiere to come fetch them for supper any minute now.

That he felt comfortable enough to nap beside her made her deliriously happy, though. He still wasn’t very forthcoming with conversation, but he’d opened up to her a little bit.

Baby steps, she told herself, as she watched him sleep a moment longer. He wouldn’t trust her overnight. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

“Rumple.” She called softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He startled awake, and stared at her with wide, confused brown eyes.

She lost herself in the whisky color of his eyes, feeling momentarily breathless.

“I’m sorry, milady. I didn’t mean to fall asleep during your lesson!”

The fear that had crept into those beautiful eyes snapped her out of it, and she immediately retracted her hand, knowing that when he was in this panicked state, touching him could make it worse.

“It’s ok, Rumple. Really. I fell asleep too! We were both full and the sun was so warm. Maybe you need an afternoon off. We’ve been studying so much the past few days! Surely you want some time for yourself. I know you enjoy your time in the gardens in the morning, but…” She trailed off when he looked even more panicked.

“No, mistress! Really, it’s ok. I enjoy the lessons!” He exclaimed.

She frowned gently. Then inspiration struck her.

“Well, perhaps tomorrow, we can take a picnic down to the beach, and have the lesson there! Would you like that?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, seemingly speechless.

Finally he nodded, his eyes wide.

She smiled. “Good. It’s settled. I really think you’ll enjoy it.”

Just then there were footsteps on the stairs.

Lumiere rounded the last bend of the spiral staircase, and appeared wearing his usual polished smile.

“Lady Belle, the Widow Lucas has arrived.”

Belle blinked. She’d lost track of the days, and forgotten Granny’s impending arrival!

“Oh! Well, that’s lovely! Are her things being brought to the room Mrs. Potts prepared?”

“Yes, milady.” Lumiere’s eyes flickered down for a moment, then back up, and he cleared his throat. “There is another arrival as well, milady. An unexpected…guest. He arrived moments before the Widow Lucas.”

Belle frowned. Whoever could it be?

And then heavy, lumbering footsteps pounded on the stairs behind Lumiere, and Belle felt her heart leap into her throat.

“Lady Belle!” A deep voice thundered, and her fear was confirmed.

She sighed, and rose to face her visitor.

He towered over Lumiere, and everyone in the room, really, a tall, hulking man with a handsome face, and an arrogant cut to his chin.

“Sir Gaston.” She nodded slightly, her chin dipping a fraction of an inch. “To what do I owe the the of your company?” If her tone was rather chilly, the man took no notice.

But Rumplestiltskin did, and he subtly stood up, edging closer to his mistress, his body going tense. His fingers flexed, ever so slightly.

“I’ve come to make you see sense, milady. Ending our betrothal was a mistake, and I won’t leave until you’ve retracted your foolish decision.” He declared.

Belle’s bristled, and Lumiere have him a look of disgust.

“Sir Gaston, I’m sure you believe you’ve come to call with the best of intentions, and I certainly extend an invitation to dinner out of courtesy, but if you believe you’ve come to renew our engagement, I’m afraid you’ll leave sorely disappointed.” And one had to be plain stupid to miss the icy tone she’d taken on.

Unfortunately, Gaston had never been the brightest among his peers.

He raised his chin defiantly. “We shall see about that, milady.” He replied, haughtily.

Belle sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening.

Gaston’s personality had always clashed horribly with hers, and she’d nearly sobbed with relief when her father had agreed to end the betrothal.

Gaston’s mother, however, an incredibly wealthy noble from a province in King Midas’ lands, had high aspirations for her son. She’d used her wealth to buy him a Knighthood…something rarely granted in this day and age, and had been pushing for a marriage with Belle since they were children.

Belle was no blind fool. Lady Symone wanted the marriage to occur because she believed that with her wealth, combined with the wealth of the Marchlands, she could elevate her son into Belle’s rightful position of Regent, and then, pay off the Blue Fairy to allow her son to claim the title of King.

“I plan to remain in Seaview until you’ve agreed once more to become my wife.” He added.

Belle now let her irritation show, a scowl pulling her lips tight.

“Sir Gaston, I have not extended an invitation for you to stay as a guest in my home.” She replied crossly.

His brow twitched. “That is of little concern to me, milady. I’ll reserve a room at the inn in the village. Nevertheless, I shall not leave this village until you’ve realize that our marriage is an inevitability, and to refuse me would be futile.”

She closed her eyes, and breathed in deep, trying to push down her simmering anger.

Few could bring her to such anger, as Gaston could.

Her eyes sprung open, and her head jerked sharply to her left, when she heard a small growl leave Rumple’s lips.

He was _glaring_ at Gaston, his lips pulled back, his teeth bared.

Gaston, ever the arrogant fool, took no notice of Rumple.

But Belle noticed. And she noticed the dark purple glow, sparking ever so slightly from his fingertips.

And she realized that her anger and dislike for Gaston was leaking over into Rumple, through the curse, and drawing out his protective instincts.

Her friends had explained the protective magic that was tied to the Dark Ones through their curse. They could only use it in defense of their mistresses, or at their mistresses’ will, but it was a dark and terrible power, and Dark Ones had been known to strip the flesh from their target, and crush their bones…and that was the least horrifying of the tales.

“Lumiere, please see Sir Gaston to the dining room. I’ve extended the invitation to dinner, and it stands, but then, he’ll be returning to the village, as I have plans to spend the evening with the Widow Lucas.” She announced in an icy tone. She shot Gaston a firm look. “And if you please, Sir Gaston, practice discretion when you speak during dinner. My Dark One joins me at every meal, and you haven’t managed to endear yourself to him.”

Gaston gaped at her, his gaze finally deigning to settle on Rumple, who glared back at him.

The curse brought out aggression in him that he normally didn’t have. He could feel the power, just beyond his reach, ready at his fingertips, should his mistress desire, or need him to use it. He wasn’t fond of the sensation of the dark magic, and it had been many years since he’d had need of it, but it was still familiar, and he’d always been particularly adept at manipulating it.  

Mistress Cora had never needed his defense, but Mistress Milah had been particularly good at making enemies of her gambling companions.

He watched Lumiere lead a protecting Gaston away, and as he felt his mistress relax, he slowly let the tension drain from his own body.

“I’m sorry, Rumple. That man seems to bring out the worst in me. This isn’t the first time, in the past six months, that’s he’s protested the end of our betrothal contract.”

He met her gaze, and then let his own fall to the ground.

“Should you wish it, I will force him to leave you alone, milady.” He whispered.

She shook her head, gently resting her palm on his cheek and drawing his gaze back to hers.

“I don’t want to hurt Gaston. I just need to make him understand that I’m never going to marry him. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out something. But I’ll try to control my temper when he’s around. I know it brings out your defensive magic.”

He blinked in surprise. He’d _felt_ her dislike for the man, and still she wished him no harm?

She offered him a smile, and folded her hand over his, lacing their fingers together.

“Come, I want you to meet Granny. She’s certainly a character! She’s worked for my father for nearly my entire life. Her granddaughter is also a friend of mine, though she’s a few years younger than me.”

She chattered on, as she led him down the stairs, telling him this story and that of adventures she and Red had gotten into whenever she was in residence in Avonlea, as a girl.

He tried to pay close attention, but he was preoccupied by the sensation of her hand, gently folded within his own.

At the dinner table they found a stout older woman sitting across from Gaston, sending him disapproving glares over the rim of her glasses. She wore a gingham green dress, a dark blue shawl, and her white hair was tucked into a neat bun atop her head.

“Granny!” She exclaimed brightly, releasing Rumple and rushing around the table. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

The woman stood, and embraced the girl. Despite the woman’s short stature, she was still taller than then his petite mistress. He watched carefully as his mistress was swamped by the hug, and the women exchanged happy greetings.

There was something…a bit off about the older woman. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it sent his senses tingling a little bit.

She turned, and eyed him, one brow arching.

“Granny, you remember Sir Gaston, of course. He came to call, but he’ll only be here through supper.” She pulled granny by the hand around the table. “And _this_ , is Rumplestiltskin. He’s my Dark One. Rumple, this is the Widow Lucas. She was like a grandmother to me, growing up.” She gave the woman a fond look.

“Everyone calls me Granny, I expect you to do the same.” The woman had a domineering way about her, he could easily see that, but she’d relaxed her stare on him a bit, and he felt he could breath. “I also expect you’ll take fine care of my girl, aye?”  

He bowed his head submissively anyways. “Yes, ma’am.”

She eyed him, but nodded. “And that’ll do with that ma’am business. It’s granny, son, and don’t forget it. Now, let’s all sit. And where’s Gertrude? She’ll need to join us, of course, so we can start lining up my responsibilities in the household.”

Belle laughed, and ushered Granny back to her seat to Belle’s left.

“Can’t you give yourself a rest for even a day, Granny?” She asked, before turning and taking Rumple by the hand once more, pulling him to his seat…directly to her right, to Gaston’s obvious ire.

“I can rest when I’m dead, child. I refuse to come to your household and laze about.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but it was with a happy exasperation. She glanced at Lumiere. “You can begin serving now, Lumiere. And do see if you can tare Mrs. Potts away from her rocking chair, will you?”

“Yes, milady.”

Belle smiled at Granny. “Mrs. Potts enjoys quilting by the fire in the evenings, but maybe she’ll deign to join us, if she hasn’t already eaten.”

Granny sniffed, but seemed content.

Rumple felt a glare burning into him, and he slowly looked up, meeting the dark gaze of _Sir_ Gaston.

Without his mistress’ anger stirring his curse, he felt a bit apprehensive, staring at the large man.

But then he remembered how much Belle seemed to dislike him, and his spine stiffened a little bit.

He matched Gaston’s glare with a dark look of his own, though he didn’t have the defensive magic to back it up at the moment. That magic only leapt to the surface if his mistress willed it, or he felt she was endangered.

So slowly, he dropped his own gaze, and couldn’t help the self-loathing that twisted in his gut when he felt a definite sense of smug victory coming from the oaf.

He glared at the table, listening to his mistress chatter on with Granny.

Hopefully the big man would be gone, and soon.

His new life was confusing enough. He didn’t need this alternating anger and fear that he felt, staring at the man, to mess with him even more. It was bad enough that he’d begun letting his guard down with his mistress, bit by bit.

He didn’t mean to, and he knew he’d come to regret it. The minute she sensed that he’d finally left himself completely open and vulnerable, that’s when she’d finally play her hand.

Wouldn’t she?

 

To be continued~

Oh Gaston, how we love to hate you. Don’t worry, he’s a minor plot point in the story. He won’t be around for long.

Next up, Regina comes back to Seaview, bringing Robin with her, she and Belle conspire to temporarily do away with the dagger, Rumple is left shocked by their plan, and Rumple makes a friend, sort of. Also, Granny watches Rumple a lot, and makes him super nervous, and Belle and Rumple have a picnic on the beach. :) 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Ok, so I can offer ya'll a million excuses for why it's been so very long since I updated. A family member's loss that hit me hard, my own health having some rough patches, the loss of my dog unexpectedly to a brain tumor, work being super-stressful, continuing my education; including a very difficult class that takes me hours and hours to do the homework, and my own break from the fandom for a short time to re-group my thoughts after an emotionally and physically draining few months. All of them are valid, and none of them make me feel better about how long it's been. To those of you who've stuck with me, I adore you. I promise, this story had an ending that's already half-written, and I will finish it. Sometimes it might take me a while to update. If you can't hold on during the times when there's a couple months of gap, I totally get it and understand. My love for the Rumbelle relationship will never die, even when i'm a bit disenchanted with cannon. So to those of you who are still with me, huzzah! I'll do my very best not to keep you waiting as long. Enjoy. 
> 
> P.s. This chapter gets a little dark at one point, and this is a trigger-warning. If you have any issues with rape, please read with caution when Rumple sits down on the beach and has a memory of his time with Cora. This won't be the only mention of this subject material either, so if you can't continue the story, I totally get it, and I don't blame you one bit.

Chapter 7

 

The spray of the sea was warm on his cheeks, the air rich with the smell of brine and ozone.

 

He stared out at the rolling blue ocean, enjoying the grainy feeling of the sand sliding between his bare toes.

 

He'd never stood so close to such a large body of water, and it made him wonder about the different realms that lay out of sight and out of his reach.

 

Were men bound to daggers, and treated as less than human in those lands?  Their choices, their very souls taken from them, their wills bent to whoever held the cursed blades?

 

'Bitter thoughts like that serve no purpose.' He told himself quietly. Besides, it wasn't as if he was currently suffering.

 

He still hadn't figured out much about his mistress, and her true nature. All he'd glimpsed so far was the kindness she showed him. The caring, and gentle touches. Her eagerness for him to 'do whatever he pleases.'

 

Frankly, he'd grown weary of waiting for her to reveal her true motives. He was tired of waiting for the kind facade to vanish. He'd decided to enjoy this small moment of reprieve in his life.

 

If Lady Belle decided to turn on him, treating him with the contempt and disgust to which he'd been accustomed to nearly his whole life, he would simply bow his head and accept it.

 

Lady Belle had suggested he take a walk on the beach after dinner last night, while she'd closeted herself with the Widow Lucas and discussed current news from Avonlea, the Court, and her father.

 

He'd been surprised by how much he'd enjoyed the walk. The sound of the ocean set him at ease, and though he didn't know how to swim, he'd dared to walk out far enough so that the cool water touched his ankles.  

 

"Rumple!"

 

He turned, and saw her coming his way, toting a large wicker basket, her smile lighting up her face. She wore a simple cotton shift, and her feet were bare, her curls hanging down her back and her face free of any make-up. It was a simple, care-free look; the most casual he'd ever seen her, and it nearly took his breath away.

 

How had the most beautiful woman in all the realms possibly seen anything worthwhile in __him,__ as a Dark One? It still left him stumped.

 

He snapped out of it as he saw her struggling with the basket, and moved forward to take it. 

 

"Mi...Lady Belle." He cringed slightly. He wasn't certain he'd ever grow used to not calling her 'mistress' as was normal protocol.

 

She beamed. "Sorry I'm late. I was waiting on cook. I asked her to make us a special dessert!" She gave him a cheery wink.

 

He flushed and looked away quickly, his arms sagging a bit under the weight of the basket. He hadn't expected it to be so heavy.

 

"Come along! I'll take you to my favorite spot." She tugged on his arm, and he followed.

 

It was a long, winding walk along the shoreline, and she chattered happily as they made their way, pointing to this spot and that one, telling him snippets of her childhood. She'd spent her youth running this beach, swimming in the ocean, breathing in the sea-air.

 

It must have been a lovely way to grow up.

 

"I'd live here for the rest of my life, if I could." She admitted to him, as the sand squished through their toes with every step.

 

"Can't you?" He asked curiously. '

 

She shrugged helplessly. "One day...sooner then I'd like, I'll have to take up my father's ruling seat in Avonlea. The Blue Fairy won't allow him to remain Regent forever...not when he has an eligible female heir." She was somber. "I've no desire to rule the Marchlands..." She admitted to him softly. "That's never been my dream."

 

He was silent for a moment, turning this thought over in his mind.

 

"Then what do you dream of?" He asked, surprised at his own boldness.

 

She smiled, and stared out at the sea. "To travel. See more of the world. To live here...where my mother raised me, where she loved to be. To raise my own family here, watch my children run over the sand dunes, as she watched me.. To continue to study, to read, and learn all that I can. To find happiness."

 

She stopped, and he glanced back. Seaview had all but disappeared, as they'd walked further down the shore; only the roof and towers of the manor could be seen now.

 

"What is your dream, Rumple?" She asked him.

 

He furrowed his brow. "Dark One's aren't permitted to dream."

 

" _ _My__ Dark One may dream." She insisted firmly.

 

He contemplated this for a while, and they continued walking for a time, until the shoreline rounded into a cove, and the mouth of a sandy cave came into view.

 

"Rumple?" He glanced over, and realized she was still waiting for an answer.

 

He couldn't tell her his true dream. The one that he kept locked up inside of his heart. He couldn't risk trusting her __that__ much.

 

"To be safe." He finally answered.

Emotions flickered over her face, and for a moment, he thought he saw disappointment register there.

 

Could she possibly know that he wasn't being completely truthful?

 

But then she gave him a soft smile, and reached out with her hand, gently grasping his.

 

"One day, I hope you will understand that you __are__ safe with me. I'll never allow anyone to harm you again."

 

"Yes milady." But it was more like an automatic answer.

 

She sighed, and reached into the basket he hefted, and pulled out a green gingham blanket.

 

"Help me spread this out?" She asked, watching him with sharp eyes.

 

He nodded, and moved to do so, not even realized that she'd given him a direct command; or that he'd helped her because she'd requested it, and he wanted to, and not because he'd felt a compulsion to do obey her.

 

They enjoyed their lunch; cook had made a savory baked lobster pie, there were juicy ripe peaches, and the surprise dessert had been one of the best things he'd tasted yet; a chocolate mousse with fresh cream and berries, which Belle proclaimed one of her very favorite desserts.

 

He had to admit, he was certain it was his favorite too.

 

They lay back on the blanket, warmed by the sun, with full stomachs and beauty of the sea spread before them, eyes heavy and slowly slipping closed.

 

As Rumple turned his neck slightly, to watch his mistress slip into her dreams, he had to admit, if heaven existed for such a creature as he, this had to be the very definition of it.

 

Only one thing could make his life better, at this point.

 

But that was a dream long out of reach, one he'd tried to let go years ago. Even if his foolish heart always held out a tiny bit of hope.

 

He woke to something tickling his nose, and jumped slightly to see a giggling Belle holding out a long piece of wet seaweed above him, wriggling it playfully, and could barely contain his startled yelp. 

She dissolved into laughter.

 

"Oh I'm sorry, Rumple! I couldn't resist! It's only seaweed!" She giggled, and her blue eyes, lit with mirth, were so gentle and lovely, he couldn't find it in himself to be sore at her.

 

He examined the seaweed, fascinated as she jumped into a mini-lecture about how certain cultures cooked with it, when it had been cleaned and dried, and that sometimes, Cook would make foods from those cultures, and how delicious the end-product could be.

 

She never seemed to run out of interesting things to tell him, and he had to admire that. His mistress was an intelligent, learned woman. The kind of person he'd always secretly respected, and longed to be.

Mistress Milah had little time for intelligence and learning. It didn't put food on her plate, money in her pocket to gamble, or ale in her cup. Mistress Cora had been a cunning woman, but intelligence was just another tool to her. She used her wit and education in her pursuit of power, her corrupted greed.

 

Mistress Belle sought knowledge for the sheer pleasure of having it. She took true joy in learning something knew. And teaching it.

 

Speaking of which, he watched as she dug into the basket, and pulled out his books.

He'd almost forgotten that a lesson had been planned as well, during this outing.

 

He grimaced a bit...as much as he enjoyed learning, he had been having such a relaxing day with his mistress...

 

"Rumple, fetch me a stone."

 

When he didn't immediately get up to do as she bid, arching a questioning brow at her instead, she had to turn away and hide her triumphant smile. 

"A stone, milady?"

 

"Yes. Just something to anchor your papers, so the wind doesn't blow them away."

 

Understanding dawned on his face, and he stood and sought out the object she'd asked for.

When he'd returned, with a flat, round stone, worn down by the sea and sand, he returned with it, and was surprised at the happy burn he felt in his chest when she gave him a sweet smile in return.

He settled down next to her, and gazed at the papers in her hand.

 

"Now where did we leave off? Oh yes."

 

The pleasant hum of her voice, and the warm sunshine on their backs, was enough to lull him back to sleep.

 

"Rumple? Are you paying attention? Can you read me this word?"

 

Oh...yeah.

 

"Sorry, Lady Belle."

  
~~~~0~~~~

 

"Mrs. Potts? We'll be having guests arrive in the morning. Please be sure the East suite it ready. Regina prefers to have a view of the ocean. She and Robin will be staying for a short visit."

Belle glanced up to see her long-time housekeeper staring at her in surprise.

 

"That's unusual. Lady Regina usually prefers to stay north during the human summers, other than short day-trips."

 

"She's coming to help me try and sort out Rumple's...dagger issue."

 

Mrs. Potts gave her a curious look, but didn't ask for further elaboration. When her lady  wanted to share further, she would do so.

 

"Ill see it done, milady."

 

"Thank you."  Belle looked back down a her appointment book. "I'll have to go down to the village, e-mail the Uni. I'm a bit behind on a paper I promised them." She murmured. "I've been so caught up in Rumple's lessons."

 

"Nothing wrong with that. It makes you happy to teach the lad. And he's flourishing with your lessons. Inch by tiny inch, he's emerging from his shell."

 

"That's what I was hoping. Maybe instilling some self-worth would help bring him 'round a bit. I know it won't happen over-night but," She sighed, "I'd give anything just to see him smile, without that outright terror lurking in his eyes."

 

Mrs. Potts crossed to her, and laid a hand tenderly over her's. "It'll take time, love, but it will come."

 

Belle offered her a small smile.

"Now, I'll go scrounge up a tea service and bring it up to you. It should help you kip to supper. Don't look at me like that, some tea and scones won't do you any harm."

 

Belle shook her head in amusement. "If you had your way, I'd eat until I was as plump as a piglet, you silly goose!"

 

"Oh, get on, you!" Mrs. Potts waved her apron at the young woman, and bustled out the door.

Belle smiled softly to herself, and flipped to the next month in her appointment book. An entire week was blocked off for the ball, and as much as she'd looked forward to it previously, she now faced it with a bit of dread.

 

She worried about how Rumple would react, when surrounded by so many people. The Rose Ball was always attended by every noble, wealthy citizen, and Court member in the Marchlands...not to mention the nobility from other Kingdoms that were extended invitations. Due to their lineage, and close affiliation with her, Snow and her husband and father were always there, as was Regina, Ariel and her affianced, as well as his mother, and to Belle's consternation, the impertinent Ella's fiance and his family were usually present, meaning this year, she'd be there as well.

 

Was Rumple ready for that? The press of people alone could be exhausting, to someone not socially inclined.

 

But she __dreaded__ the thought of leaving him for so long. Despite the fact that he'd only been in her life a little over a week, she couldn't picture a day without him.

SHe sighed, and let her face slump into her hands.

 

She'd leave it up to him. She wouldn't force him to go. If he felt more comfortable staying here, in the peace and solitude of Seaview, then she'd simply attend alone, and leave him be.

 

SHe __never__ wanted to force him to do something he didn't want to do.

 

But she'd leave the question for later. There was plenty of time between now and the ball. Perhaps with more time, he'd be as reluctant to be away from her, as she was with him.

 

How quickly he'd become so precious to her!

 

The smell of her favorite peach and rose-hip tea caught her attention, and it perked her up a bit, as Mrs. Potts came back into the room, baring a clinking tray.

 

"Oh! You didn't tell me cook baked her cinnamon scones!"

  
~~~~0~~~~

 

He wasn't crazy.

 

He didn't think so, at least.

 

But he felt eyes on him, constantly. And it was making him twitchy.

 

Not that he wasn't a nervous wreck all the time anyway. But that was besides the point.

 

No, he was being watched. He was sure of it.

 

He looked up from where he was gently fiddling with the petals of a rose, and peered around carefully.

 

He was sitting in his little nook, in the garden, as he did every morning. True to her word, Mrs. Potts' had made certain to have the gardener, a quiet old man named Gepetto, install a comfortable bench in his little corner.

 

He spotted a bit of light out of the corner of his eye...the reflection of sun on glass.

 

Widow Lucas, or Granny, as she constantly scolded at him to call her, was watching him, a thoughtful light in her old blue eyes. Her round spectacles were perched on her nose, and her shawl, a muted green, nearly blended in with the rest of the garden greenery. 

He gulped.

 

She didn't approach him, didn't call out, simply continued to watch him.

 

Feeling self conscious, he shifted slightly, his eyes finding his booted-feet.

 

When he looked up again, she was gone, but he still held the odd feeling of being watched.

 

He didn't know what that tingling at his senses was, when that old woman was around, or watching him, but it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

 

"Rumple!"

 

He looked up, to see Belle leaning out of one of her office windows, waving at him enthusiastically.

 

Panic gripped him. She was leaning out far too much! She was so very preciously clumsy...what if she fell!?

 

"Lady Belle!" He cried softly, alarm shaping his expression and tone. "Please, don't lean out so far!"

 

She wrinkled her nose. "You're a worry-wort, Rumple!" She teased. "Will you come have lunch with me in an hour? There's something I want to talk to you about!"

He nodded, feeling a bit tongue-tied. It was still odd, being given the option, the opportunity to say no.

 

"Great. I'll see you then! In the library! Enjoy your quiet time!" She smiled softly at him, and waved, before disappearing from the window.

 

He watched the window for a moment, secretly hoping he'd catch sight of the now-familiar auburn curls and bright blue eyes once more, but she didn't re-appear.

 

Deciding the spend the hour doing more then staring like a lost puppy at an empty window, he stood up, and made his way through the garden, down past the the courtyard, and out to the sea-wall that led down to the beach.

 

He slipped through the little door that sometimes stuck, from the salty air and humidity, but a few quick tugs, and he was through.

 

He unlaced his boots by the door, and left them there, then began to walk down to the water's edge.

 

Lady Belle had promised to teach him to swim. Living in the Frontlands his entire life, he hadn't had much exposure to water outside of the tin tub he'd washed in, while he'd lived with Milah, and the cold shower stalls in Cora's cellar, and at the Headquarters.

 

But until he knew how to swim, the closest he got was the shallow tide.

 

The warm water washed over his toes, and he found himself wishing Lady Belle was with him to appreciate the fine morning, and the view...

 

He sighed, and shook his head.

 

He sat in the sand, crossing his legs, uncaring that his linen pants were dampening with the tide.

 

He felt the prickling sensation of being watched again, but he didn't dare turn and seek out those sharp, pale blue eyes.

 

Maybe she didn't trust Dark One's. Maybe she hated men in general. She'd certainly glared enough at that Gaston fellow over dinner the other night.

 

He tried to forget the feeling, and focus on the swirling water. His fingers twitched against his pants.

They itched to work a spinning wheel.

 

It had been so very long since he'd spun. He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it, until he came here to Seaview.

 

For a decade, he'd used spinning to support Mistress Milah. He'd been a dab hand at it too. That had taken even her by surprise, he knew, not that she'd ever admit it. He came by the talent naturally, as he'd never had a lick of training his whole life.

 

But then...he'd been desperate to find __any__ other method of bringing in money, than what Mistress Milah had forced on him for the first few months, after her father's death.

 

Did the palace have a spinning wheel? Did he dare ask?

 

He closed his eyes, and remembered the last time he'd asked a mistress for permission to spin...

 

__Mistress Cora had been in a good mood, as of late. He'd kept her satisfied in her bed every night, even enduring her strange fetishes. She was being courted socially by a wealthy business man. She'd finally managed to drag a socialite whom she detested off her pedestal, and ruin her name._ _

 

__He thought, perhaps, there wouldn't be a better time to ask._ _

 

__He approached her nervously, shifting from foot to foot. She was_ _ __sipping_ _ __a brandy, staring into the fire, in her office._ _

 

__He knew she was likely ruminating on her_ _ __financial_ _ __situation. She never spoke of it with him, but according to the kitchen gossip, she was deeply in debt, and drowning in it. She was desperate for a rich husband, and she was no longer a  young philly. Wealthy men who managed to stay abreast of the Blue Fairy, wanted young,_ _ __beautiful_ _ __, fertile women._ _

 

__"Mistress." He whispered._ _

 

__She glanced up, her ocher eyes sharp._ _

 

__"What is it?" Her tone was honeyed poison._ _

 

__"I was wondering if perhaps, you would allow me to spin."_ _

 

__She narrowed her eyes._ _

 

__"Spin?" Her tone was quiet,_ _ __deceptively_ _ __soft._ _

 

__"I...I'm quite good at it, mistress. I can use a dropspindle to begin with, and eventually, with enough wages, buy a spinning wheel. I could use the profit to help you, Mistress. With your financial troubles." It's not as if he had a use for money. His last Mistress had taken all of his profits_ _ __anyway_ _ __, so he was used to it. He just really longed to have the distraction of spinning again. It was the only thing that could possibly turn his mind from his heartbreak._ _

 

__She stood slowly, setting her glass down with a gentle 'clink', her body unfolding as she rose to her full height. In her stilettos, she rose a few inches above him. She stared down at him as If he were a rodent, or a bug to be squashed._ _

 

__"And what do you know of my_ _ _ _financial troubles_ _ __." That was the first sign that something was wrong._ _

 

__"I." He began to sweat. "I just, had heard..." He trailed off, panic filling him. "I didn't mean to assume, Mistress."_ _

 

__She gave him a cruel smile. She really was lovely, for an older woman. Her hair was always perfectly styled, her make-up flawless. She dressed elegantly,_ _ __appropriately_ _ __._ _

 

__She was a monster, in a pretty disguise._ _

 

__"Perhaps, you shouldn't have, then. You little worm." She sneered._ _

 

__The slap came, as he'd expected. He'd grown used to it. She enjoyed hurting him. One of her fetishes included causing him pain, in bed._ _

 

__He stumbled a bit from the force of the hit. He hadn't fully recovered, when she slapped him again, sending him to his knees._ _

 

__"You want to_ _ _ _spin_ _ __!? Who do you think I am? I'll be the laughing-stock of the entire kingdom! Her Dark One is a spinner! Like a woman?" She screeched, and her lovely features were twisted with malice. She moved towards him, and he made the mistake of flinching back._ _

 

__He was on his back, with her stiletto pressing against his windpipe, before he had time to blink. She ground down with it, choking him. "You spineless little peon. I bought you for one reason, and one reason only." She moved her heal from his throat, and he fought back to urge to retch and heave for air._ _

 

__She'd crouched down beside him, and her hand was grabbing at his crotch through his pants, roughly pawing at him. Her other hand had already moved to hitch up her skirt._ _

 

__He grit his teeth, knowing that she'd force arousal on him when he didn't react to her aggressive touch, and sure enough, she was hissing at him in frustration._ _

 

__"Get it up, would you!?" She demanded. "NOW!"_ _

 

__The magic of the curse was_ _ __instantaneous_ _ __, and he was hard and aching in her palm, only his thin ratty pants between them._ _

 

__She grinned, and_ _ __wiggled_ _ __out of her_ _ __undergarments_ _ __, yanking down his pants and  straddling him._ _

 

__"Now...hold your breath, Rumple-dear." Her smile was serpentine, as she sank down on him, and wrapped her hands around the thin column of his neck, squeezing_ _ __aggressively_ _ __._ _

 

__Black spots appeared in his vision, as she began to ride him, her cries rising into the air._ _

 

__The last thing he remembered, before blacking out, was wishing he'd never asked about the damn spinning wheel._ _

 

His head snapped up, and he felt his stomach give a queasy pull.

 

"You'll be late for your lunch."

 

He  turned, and sure enough, Granny stood a few feet away, watching him with her assessing  gaze.

 

He hadn't even realized so much time had passed.

 

He scrambled to his feet, brushing off sand desperately, his cheeks flushed.

 

"Go on, lad.  I'm sure she won't scold." Granny's lips gave an amused quirk, and she moved off down the beach, walking at a slow but steady gate.

 

He outright ran to the sea wall, stuffed his boots back on, and limped up through the garden, not bothering to stop and get the shell out of his shoe.

 

He was a sweaty, sandy, damp mess when he reached the library, and he stopped, gaping, at the lunch spread set out on one of the tables, and the table's occupants.

 

Belle stared back, expression stunned, from where she sat across from the dark-haired woman she'd had with her the day she'd bought him. Next to the woman sat a ruggedly handsome man who appeared to be around Rumple's age, though he wore it better.

 

"Rumple." Belle stood, looking concerned.

 

"Forgive me, Lady Belle. I didn't mean to be late...." He tried to straighten his clothes and his hair, but it was useless. He'd need a bath, and a change of clothing to look decent for guests. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

 

"Well, it's perfectly fine. Come, sit." She smiled soothingly. "We haven't even begun yet. We were just pouring the tea." She came over, and ushered him into the chair beside hers. "RUmple, you remember Lady Regina, don't you? She's come to stay for the weekend. And this is her husband, Lord Robin."

 

The man gave a jovial smile.

 

"I've told you time and again, Lady Belle. I'm no Lord, no need to use noble titles with me. I'm simply have to be known as Regina's husband." He gave his wife a tender look, and Rumple was surprised to see the cool, composed woman soften a bit.

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Rumplestiltskin." Robin nodded at him, giving him a kind look.

 

"Robin is a former Dark One, Rumple." Regina added, almost conversationally, between sips of tea.

 

Rumple stared in stunned shock at the other man, who nodded, with a smile.

 

"Yes I was. Lady Regina purchased me three years ago. A year ago next month, she released me from my curse, and we married. Of course, I loved her almost from the time I met her." He gave his wife a teasing look. "It took her a little while to catch up to me."

 

She rolled her dark eyes. "Will I never live that down?"

 

"Shall we lunch?" Belle changed the topic, noticing that Rumple, who was still in shock, was white as a ghost.

 

"Yes, let's. Oh the smoked-duck breast salad looks marvelous!" Regina replied.

 

Lunch was filled with happy chatter, between the female, and Robin, who tried to gently encourage RUmple to talk.

 

Rumple tried his best to not plow through his food. The braised beef short ribs were so good, that he had to stop himself from licking the sauce from his fingers when his plate was empty. Dessert was creme brulee, and he scraped up every last scrap of it, and then finished Lady Belle's when she insisted.

 

Robin gave him a knowing, understanding look.

 

"Rumple, I have something I want to talk to you about." Belle began, once lunch was finished.

 

He glanced up, and noticed all eyes on him.

 

He didn't answer, just looked around at all of them timidly.

 

"Rumple, since the first night I brought you home, I've been contemplating a way to disable the dagger's power over you." She reached down and brought up a long, thin, oak box.

 

"I...don't understand." He blinked, unable to tare his gaze away from her.

 

"I can't set you free, Rumple. Not without endangering your life. The last thing I want is to see you end up back in th Blue Fairy's grasp. The only option I would have, to protect you, would be to marry you..." At his panicked gaze, she hastened to pacify him. "But as I told you, I never want to make you do anything against your will again. Which brings us back to the initial problem with the dagger."

 

His mind was whirling. Setting him free? Marrying him? She couldn't marry him. She was, well...she was __everything__. And he was nothing.

 

"I don't want the dagger to hold sway over you. I don't want to have to worry that something that slips out of my mouth will be made into a compulsion that you have to blindly follow. To that end, I've been doing some research, and talking with Regina."

 

"What I'm about to tell you, can never leave this room." Regina leaned forward, staring him down with her intense dark eyes. "Few people know about it, and it needs to stay that way. If it ever got out, I could be in serious danger."

 

He frowned. "I don't understand."

 

"Regina is a sorceress." Robin added helpfully.

 

He flinched back, fear filling him.

 

"Don't worry. I don't use my magic to cause harm or cast curses binding men to daggers. I'm a very private practitioner of magic. But it must be kept secrete at all cost. If Reul Ghorm ever found out about my magic, she would try to force me to join her little __coven__. And when I resisted, as I would, she would try to find a way to kill me. And she's a lot older, and more experienced than I. I don't know if I could honestly win, in a battle with her. Assuming she didn't have her followers helping her."

 

"The whole point of us telling you this, Rumple, is that I believe I've found a way to bind your dagger. You will still technically be bound by the curse. But with Regina's binding spell, and a spell to keep it hidden, far enough away, you will no longer be forced to bend to my will. It's as close as I can give you, right now, to being free."

 

He stared at her in stunned amazement.

Why? Why would she want to do this for him?

 

Why did she even __care__ about his freedom?

 

She only smiled at him softly, oblivious to his internal conflict.

 

Belle turned to Regina, and the two began to chat animatedly about the plan, and how they would attempt the initial binding spell tonight, after supper, when the moon was high.

 

Meanwhile, Rumple's entire world was spinning out of control. Everything he'd ever believed in life was throwing itself in his face, and he didn't have a way to get a foothold in his whirling new reality.

 

He hadn't realized he'd gotten up and run from the room, until he was half-way to the garden.

 

He didn't slow his pace until he was through the sea-wall door, and standing on the edge of the ocean, breathing harshly.

 

He was only alone for a few minutes, before he felt someone come up beside him.

 

He glanced over, expecting his mistress, even though logically he knew it wasn't her presence he was sensing.

 

It was Robin.

 

He was giving him am understanding look.

 

He didn't say anything, just stood there with him, staring out at what seemed like the edge of the world.

 

There didn't need to be words between them. The silence said enough.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

"Do you think he'll be ok?" Regina watched Belle pace. "I've never actually seen him bolt from my presence before."

 

"He'll be fine, Belle. He's just overwhelmed. Remember, you're talking about a man who's been a slave since he was __seven__. Robin will talk to him. It will be alright." Regina stretched languidly, fondly patting her stomach. "Another excellent meal. I swear, if I could steal your cook from you, I'd do it ina  second."

 

Belle sent her an annoyed look. "Can we focus on Rumple right now?"

 

Regina laughed. "Stop fretting! Your little nervous nelly will be just fine. At the end of the day, you're doing this for his benefit. He'll get used to the idea, and then he'll never be able to go back to the idea of being a true slave again." She shrugged. "Or you could free him, and marry him, and solve all your problems in one shot." She offered.

 

Belle flushed scarlet. "Don't be ridiculous." She snapped. "Rumple's no where near ready for something like that!"

 

Regina gaped at her. "I was just joking. But are you telling me it's something your considering? Really!? That mouse of a man? You can't honestly tell me you have feelings for him so soon!"

 

Belle flushed even deeper. "Well I." She paused. "It's not that simple. I care for him, deeply. He tugs at me, Regina. I want to help him. I want to be his friend, and earn his trust. As for anything else, that has to be because Rumple wants it too. Not just me. I'll never take anything from him that isn't freely offered."

 

Regina stared at her contemplatively.

 

"If nothing else, you have a crush, and I must say, I'm surprised. The woman who's repelled the idea of love and men from every direction, falls for her Dark One in a matter of a week." She snorted, and shook her head. "My word, but isn't it scandalous!"

 

Belle shot her a glare. "Shut up, Regina. And don't say a word about this to anyone, not even Snow. I don't know what I feel. I can't let myself truly feel anything yet, anyway. Rumple's well-being comes first, and he's still in a very bad way. So let's focus on binding the dagger. Everything else will come as it will."

 

Regina nodded. "Of course." She stood up, and offered her friend a rare, genuine smile. "You know, I can kind of see it. He needs a bit of polish, of course, but I can definitely see him standing with you, by your side as you take up the position of Regent. With time, of course."

 

Belle blushed. "Regina." She muttered, burying her face in her hands.

 

"Right, right. Let's look at that spell book you managed to find. I swear, I'm going to have to get the name of your 'connection' one of these days. The things you manage to achieve under the radar..."

 

Belle laughed.

 

Yes, everything else could wait. Rumple didn't just deserve his freedom, he __needed__ it. Maybe with this huge leap in that direction, he could finally truly start opening up to her.

 

But in the back of her mind, she couldn't shake the picture Regina had presented.

 

She wouldn't lie to herself and deny that it wasn't a welcome thought.

 

To be Continued~

Coming up, Regina and Belle complete the spells, Rumple has a taste of his pseudo freedom, and Regina causes more shenanigans on her brief stay at Seaview. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, so much, to all the loyal readers who stick with me, and my infrequent updates. :) You all rock. Even as the show breaks my heart, time and time again, and disenchants me...(I mean, really...they kill Robin off permanently but bring Hook back!? Are you freaking KIDDING me!? And don't get me started on cannon Moe. He pisses me off SOOO much. ) I still have hope for Rumbelle's happy ending, even if it's been a bit diminished. I've been a bit out of touch with the fandom, to be honest, because my life has just been so hectic. My new mini Australian Shepherd puppy had been keeping me busy, and my frustration with the writers makes it easy for me to disconnect. But I won't give up hope until the bitter end. I'll go down with this ship. lol. Enjoy the update! <3

Chapter 8

Rumple didn't know what to think, what to feel, as he watched Regina and Belle from a few feet away. 

Robin stood nearby. The man didn't push him to talk, and for that, Rumple was grateful. He hadn't said much from the moment he'd heard what Belle intended to do with the dagger. 

Honestly, he didn't know what to say. What do you say to a woman who, with no obvious ulterior motive, was doing completely irrational and, likely, illegal things in order to give him even a taste of freedom? 

He didn't know what to even do with the concept of freedom. He'd been a slave since he was a child. Nearly all his memories involved enslavement to one woman or another.

Why was Belle so different? A cruel mistress, he could handle. He knew how to respond, how to act. He was used to Coras, and Milahs, and Ruel Ghorms. 

He wasn't at all prepared for Belle. 

He sighed. The moon was high, but still provided little light in the shadow of the cave, tucked into the curling shoreline, that Belle had taken him to a few days ago. 

A black wooden box, inlaid with silver, sat on the sand at Regina's feet. She held his dagger in her hands. Belle held a tied pouch filled with herbs, and a bottle of oddly sparkling blue liquid. 

"You remember your part of the spell?" Regina was asking her. 

Belle nodded, before flicking him a worried glance. 

"This won't hurt him at all, will it?" 

"No. The pain will be yours." Regina sounded oddly remorseful, considering the flat expression she wore, as she focused on his dagger. "It will be the price you pay for the spell." 

His mistress nodded, but Rumple frowned. 

What pain? Nothing had been mentioned about pain...

"You understand the full cost of the magic?" Regina confirmed. 

"I do." 

"Then let's begin." 

Robin moved closer to Rumple, and gave the shorter man a nudge. 

"You really lucked out, when it comes to mistresses, my friend." He murmured. "As much as I love Regina, there's no way she would have gone through something like this for me, back in the beginning." 

Rumple sent him an alarmed look. 

"What did Lady Regina mean by pain, and the cost of the magic?" 

Robin scratched his head. "I don't know much about magic, I'll be honest. That's a part of Regina's life that she keeps very private, though I'm sure if I showed an interest in it, she'd answer what she could. But prior to the curse, I was a simple man, who enjoyed archery and the outdoors, and when she freed me, well. I tend to avoid most magic now. But what I do know is this, one of the most fundamental laws of magic is that all magic comes with a price. A price that Lady Belle, undoubtedly, is prepared to pay." 

Rumple felt panic build inside of him, as he watched his little mistress with careful, sharp eyes. 

Regina had begun to murmur, and was he crazy, or was the light of the moon growing stronger?

"The potion." He heard Regina say to Belle, and his mistress uncorked the bottle, and poured half of it over the Kris dagger.

Regina's eyes were closed as she continued to mutter, and a foggy, purple smoke had begun to rise from the sand around them. 

He was distracted by the bright moonlight that now lit up the beach around them, and the foggy, so the low, soft moan was a surprise, and his head snapped back in his mistresses' direction. 

She was bent over, still clutching the bottle and the bag of herbs, but her face was contorted in pain. 

"Mistress!" He gasped, but when he started to dart forward, Robin restrained him by the arm. 

"You can't interrupt the spell, Rumplestiltskin. It's dangerous." 

Rumple's focus was solely on his mistress, but he didn't fight Robin's grip. The man clearly knew more than he did, even if he proclaimed to have little knowledge of magic. 

Regina bent at the waist, and lay the dagger in the bow, before closing and latching it. Then she pried the herbs and potion out of Belle's grip, and upended the pouch, scattering the herbs over the box, before pouring the remaining half of the potion over it. 

White smoke hissed up away from the box, and as it did, the purple fog vanished, and Belle collapsed to the ground with a soft cry. 

Two things happened simultaneously. Rumple felt a shift in his...well he wasn't sure, was it his soul? Did he even have one left, after so many years bound to the darkest curse a human could endure? It was like, the shadowy stains of darkness had peeled back, and even if they weren't completely gone, for the first time in decades, he felt lighter. 

And Belle lost consciousness, crying out one last time before she did. 

Robin released his hold, and Rumple was beside his mistress in an instant, pulling her into his arms. 

"She'll be alright. She'll sleep for a day or so to recover." Regina informed him, bending once more to lift the box by the ornate heavy silver handles. "The cost of the magic tied this box to her. Only she can open it." She glanced at Robin, and he nodded, the two of them moving to carry the box deep into the cave, a shovel that Rumple hadn't even realized he was toting, thrown over his shoulder. 

He stared down at his beautiful mistress, once more astounded by her. 

Would he ever be able to understand this ethereal creature? One who suffered pain on his behalf?

"Oh Belle." He whispered, knowing that he only dared use her name, because no one could hear him, not even her. 

She flinched in her sleep, and curled up closer to him. 

As he cradled her closer to him, her brow smoothed, and she sighed softly. 

"Rumple." She murmured. 

He startled, believing that she'd woken up; but now, she was still deep in her magic induced sleep. 

"Can you carry her? Or shall I have Robin tote her back?" He glanced up sharply, to see Regina and Robin had reemerged from the cave, and Regina was arching one of her sculpted, elegant brows, watching him was dark, assessing eyes. 

Something about that woman gave him the chills. Something familiar, that he couldn't put his thumb on. He didn't fear her, and sensed no outright hostility in her...

But there was something in the way that she carried herself, and even the way she spoke, that put him on edge. 

But she was one of his mistress’s dearest friends. And that was enough for him. 

"I have her." He may not mind the former dark one's presence, but he didn't want anyone carrying his mistress when he was plenty capable. 

She was his to protect. Even if he currently felt free of the dagger's thrall. 

And that was a feeling that he would have to go back and examine carefully, when he was alone. Freedom, even pseudo-freedom, was so unrecognizable to him, that he almost felt like he was naked without the dagger. Unsafe. Empty. 

He rose from the ground, lifting his Lady with him. He hadn't comprehended just how very tiny she was, until she was nestled in his arms. She was so very wee! Even compared to him, and he was by no means a large man, in fact, he was just on the line between average and small himself. He was definitely thinner than most. 

Not that his mistress wasn't doing her very best to 'put meat on his bones', as Mrs. Pott's often claimed. 

He let his gaze slide down to her face, every few moments, as they trekked back up the beach and towards the manor. 

A few steps ahead of him, Regina and Robin walked side-by-side, their hands twined. 

That type of love, the kind he clearly could read, in their body language, the way they looked at one another, the way Regina visibly softened when Robin looked at her, well...that kind of love was one he’d never known. 

In fact, he was pretty certain he’d never known any kind of love. His precious Bae…well he hadn’t had the chance to love him, but he liked to think that if he had, he would have. If Mistress Milah didn’t purposely poison the lad against him. 

He stared down at his mistress. 

She had clearly been adored her entire life. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d known love. She offered it so freely to those around her. Even her servants adored her. 

His papa hadn’t loved him. That cold realization had hit him, about a month or so after he’d been sold to the Blue Fairy. When he realized that his papa wasn’t coming back for him. His mama hadn’t loved him either. What he could remember of the woman, and there wasn’t much he could, had been cold. Detached. 

Mistress Milah had offered nothing but annoyance, colored with distaste…bordering on pure hatred, towards the end. And Mistress Cora. Well, he didn’t think that woman even had a heart. There’d been a rumor among her staff that she’d removed her own heart, by magic, years ago. She viewed love as a weakness, and Cora by no means allowed herself any weaknesses. 

He had to turn his eyes away from Regina and Robin, because honestly, it made his chest ache painfully. 

He wasn’t worthy of a love like that, he was certain of that now. He’d been born a mistake, and he’d brought nothing but trouble to anyone he touched. 

He fretted silently, wondering about the trouble he would inevitably bring Mistress Belle. 

He didn’t release her until he was laying her down in her bed, and pulling the covers up around her. 

Then he took a seat on the floor, against the wall, to watch over her. He would not be dissuaded from his silent vigil. 

And on she slept. 

~~~~~0~~~~~

“Good morning, love.” Robin set his hand on hers, as he joined her on the balcony, basking in the morning air, which hadn’t yet grown too humid. 

“The ocean is beautiful at this time of day. It looks so clear and blue…” Regina murmured, leaning a head on his shoulder. 

“I agree.” He glanced down at her. “Has Belle woken up yet?” 

“No. I checked a few minutes ago. Hopefully by mid-morning, the magic will wear off. Her little mouse is still keeping devoted watch, though.” 

Robin smiled to himself. “He may be a bit quiet, and withdrawn, but there’s more to Rumplestiltskin then meets the eye, I promise you that.” 

“Hmm. Belle agrees.” Regina rested a hand gently over the flat pane of her belly, contemplating telling Robin now. 

She decided to wait. There was time still, and really, she’d only confirmed it herself yesterday morning, shortly before they’d set out for Seaview.

In the meantime, she was craving a heaping bowl of porridge like no tomorrow, with liberal amounts of honey. 

She blamed Robin’s genes for her current peasant-fare cravings. 

“Come, let’s dress and go down for breakfast. You know Belle and her silly little habits…we’ll have to dine with the servants for breakfast.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have the issues with it that you do, love.” 

“Well of course you don’t. But it’s still a bit strange for me.” She shrugged, and walking into the room. Feeling lazy, she waved her hand, and purple smoke filled the room. When it cleared, she was fully dressed and groomed, as was he. 

He scowled. “You know I hate when you do that.” 

She arched a brow. “I’m hungry!” She complained. 

“What’s with your appetite lately? Usually I have to coax you into eating breakfast.” Robin muttered. “Now it’s like I can’t feed you enough.” 

She scowled at him. “Are you calling me fat?!” 

“No! Of course not! I don’t care how much you eat! It’s just unusual, is all.” He didn’t comment on the moodiness. Not that Regina hadn’t always been moody, but lately, she seemed extra touchy. 

She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d garbed herself in a dark blue silk pant suit today, and he had to admire her. A lovelier woman, he couldn’t have been blessed with, even if he did have to deal with a bit of moodiness. 

“Let’s just go.” She barked at him, and he shook his head with a chuckle. 

“I’m going to poke my head into Lady Belle’s room, offer to bring Rumplestiltskin some breakfast.” He mentioned, as they passed the double doors that led to the palace’s mater suite. 

The room was dimly lit, the curtains still drawn, and the figure in the bed unmoving. 

And the figure curled up against the wall, eyes unblinkingly watching the bed, hadn’t moved either. 

“There now, my friend.” Robin crouched beside him, and he startled, before his eyes were drawn back to his mistress. “You need to eat, Rumplestiltskin.” 

“You of all people should know that, technically, I don’t.” He muttered. 

“She wouldn’t want you to suffer, my friend.” 

“I’ll not leave this spot till she’s awake.” He replied. 

“Then I’ll bring you something.” 

Rumple didn’t reply, so Robin stood up, and rejoined his wife.

The bowl of porridge that he would later deliver would remain un-eaten, and the tea would go cold. 

~~~~0~~~~

Belle slowly pulled herself up out of the murky, heavy sleep she’d been submerged in. 

She felt sore, and groggy, like she’d had no rest at all. But then, Regina had warned her that the price of the magic would be physically uncomfortable. 

She fought back a yawn, and sat up. The room was dark, and she searched for the pull-string for her bedside lamp. 

Soft light filled the room, and she immediately saw the crouched, shadowy form of Rumplestiltskin, sitting against the wall, his chin resting on his knees, startled brow eyes meeting hers. 

“Mi…Lady Belle.” He sprung to his feet, and was by her side in the time it took her to exhale. 

“Rumple.” She smiled gently. “Did you wait by my side this whole time?” 

“I haven’t moved an inch, milady.” He said, in all seriousness. 

“Oh Rumple. You didn’t have to do that. What time is it anyway?” She threw back the covers, as he anxiously stepped away, to allow her room to get up. 

“Nearly noonday, milady. Lunch should be served soon.” His fingers twitched. 

She watched him a moment, and realized for the first time, that his fingers were constantly twitching. 

As if they were restless. Longing for something. 

She frowned thoughtfully. 

“Well, you’ve been very kind to watch over me Rumple. Why don’t you run along to lunch, if you’re hungry? I’ll freshen up and be down shortly.” 

He thought of the bowl of untouched porridge that Mrs. Potts had cleaned up two hours ago. He was starting to feel a bit hungry. He’d almost grown used to having regular meals.

“Yes, milady.” 

“Rumple…” She put a gentle hand on his arm, and he froze, as he always did. “Remember, you don’t have to obey my commands anymore. You’re free to do as you wish, whenever you wish.” Her blue eyes shone with sincerity. 

He almost recoiled, but nodded quickly. 

“Yes, milady.” 

He shot out of the room like the hounds of hell were chasing him. 

She sighed, and wandered over to her wardrobe. 

When would she start to understand the complex man?

After changing into a light, breathable tea-dress in pale yellow, washing up and combing her hair, made her way to the dining room, only to stop short, with her mouth hanging open, as she stared at the scene in front of her.

Chaos. That’s the only word she had for it. 

Regina was squaring off with Gaston, who glowered down at her like a big dumb lummox. Regina was seething mad, shouting at him. Robin stood directly behind her, arms folded over his chest, a smirk on his face. 

Granny was chasing a squat little balding man around the table, brandishing a loaf of bread like a weapon, practically snarling. 

Cogsworth was pacing back and forth, fretting, as Lumiere used a rag to wipe up an up-ended teapot. The rest of the servants were crowded in the doorway. Mrs. Potts was calmly setting down a tray on the tale, neatly side-stepping Granny and her squealing target. 

And Rumple, poor Rumple, was backed into a corner, looking ready to bolt, his eyes darting around the room in panic. 

That snapped her out of it. 

“What in the HELL is going on here!?” She demanded. 

Everyone froze, and slowly turned to look at her. 

She crossed her arms over her chest. And glared. 

Regina pointed at Gaston. 

“He started it! He invited himself to lunch, insisted he was your fiancé still, and laughed when his little gremlin sidekick outright insulted Widow Lucas and made a lewd comment about her granddaughter.” Regina hissed. 

Belle sighed heavily, and turned to Gaston. 

“I tire of this, Sir Gaston. Your refusal to accept the end of our betrothal contract, and the liberties you take in my home begin to wear on my patience. I must insist that you and your…companion, leave. You’re upsetting my guests, and my staff.” 

He drew himself up, looking affronted. 

“That would be a mistake, milady. Everyone knows about you, knows how very odd you are. Your obsession with your books, and research. You could already be the regent of the Marchlands, leading one of the wealthiest, most progressive kingdoms in the realm, and you sit back and let your father continue to rule, while you languish and age in this little seaside hamlet. You shy away from all suitors, and by the way, how will you ever have an heir if you never marry!? One would think you’re one of those bizarre women who enjoys the romantic company of other women.” He sneered.

Belle felt gob smacked. Not by the insinuation that she was a lesbian, which wasn’t true but wouldn’t offend her anyways, or even that she was odd for enjoying books and academia the way she did (people had been telling her that her entire life). 

No, it was the fact that she’d never heard Gaston string together enough words to form a full sentence, let alone a speech such as that. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as dumb as she had always thought. 

“Oh, that’s it!” Regina lunged, and Robin had to restrain her, actually concerned with the murderous expression she wore. 

“That’s quite enough of that.” Belle finally found her voice. Her tone was quiet, and reserved. “You will leave my home immediately, and you will not return, unless I offer you an invitation myself. And I assure you, that won’t be anytime soon.” 

Gaston glared and surprised her when he moved forward aggressively. 

“You stuck up little bit…” He didn’t get to finish that thought. 

Rumple had placed himself directly in front of her, and was glaring, his eyes dark and menacing. 

“My mistress has asked that you leave. Do so. Now.” Even Belle was unfamiliar with the dark, almost sing-song tone that Rumple had acquired. 

Gaston scoffed at the much smaller man, and bunched one meaty fist. 

“Get lost, you little worm.” Gaston lunged and two things happened simultaneously. 

Belle let out a yelp of fear for her Dark One, and hurried to shield him. And Rumple began to crackle with a dark, purple energy, as he thrust a fist forward. 

Gaston was dangling off the ground, as if held by invisible ropes, and his face was turning purple, as he struggled for air, his windpipe crushed by an unseen vise. 

His little sidekick, Alphonse LeFou, if Belle remembered correctly, let out a shriek, as Granny finally clubbed him with the baguette, and it broke the trance Belle was under. 

She set a hand on Rumple’s shoulder, noticing that the crackling purple energy didn’t harm her, curiously enough. 

“Rumple. Please. This isn’t the way. Let him go. Please.” 

He glanced at her, but didn’t immediately obey. Were he not so angry, this would have shocked him. 

“Please.” Her eyes were focused on his. “I appreciate that you want to protect me, my dear friend. But this will accomplish nothing.” She whispered. 

Hearing her call him ‘her dear friend’ stunned him enough to release Gaston, who collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping to bring air into his body. 

The energy around him disappeared, and his shoulders slumped momentarily. 

But then he remembered that his job wasn’t done. This behemoth, had threatened his Lady Belle. He couldn’t be allowed to remain anywhere near her. 

He squared his jaw, reaching for the courage he kept buried deep within him, normally smothered by the Dark One curse, that came roaring to life when Mistress Belle was threatened. He’d heard of the protective magic before, but prior to Mistress Belle coming into his life, he’d never had a reason to use it. Now he’d felt it twice. 

It made him feel stronger than he was.

“Leave. Now.” He ordered. 

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Gaston stumbled to his feet, glaring at the small man, and scrambled from the room, his steps thunderous. 

LeFou squeaked, and scrambled after him, still nursing his pathetic little head.

“I shall…escort them from the property then.” Lumiere said, straightening his bow tie. He quickly left the room. 

“Thank you, Lumiere.” Belle nodded. “Why don’t we all sit down, have some lunch, and calm ourselves? Cogsworth, a fresh pot of tea, if you will. The chamomile, to help everyone’s nerves?”

“Yes milady.” 

Belle twined her hand with Rumple’s, who was staring at the ground, his fingers ever twitching. 

“Lunch, Rumple?” She asked gently. 

He glanced up from beneath the fringe of his hair, which hung in his eyes a big. 

“Yes, milady.” He whispered. 

She leaned closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His face shot up, eyes wide and stunned. 

“Thank you for protecting me, Rumple.” She smiled, and squeezed his hand, before releasing it. She was delighted to watch his cheeks stain red, and he half-muttered in response. 

“It was nothing, milady.” He followed her to the table, where he took his seat to the left of her. 

Regina arched a brow at Robin, a small smirk curling at her lips. 

“I guess there’s a bit of a lion in that little mouse after all.” She murmured. 

Robin smirked at her in return. “I did try to tell you, love.” 

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was another item to add to Robin’s list of ‘I was right, you were wrong.’ It seemed to be an endless game between them. 

Robin chuckled. “Come along love. I heard Mrs. Potts mention chowder for lunch.” 

Regina’s eyes lit up. 

~~~~~0~~~~

“Shall we go for a ride?” Belle glanced over to Regina, who was pacing the length of the library restlessly. 

Belle set down her book. Regina had never been content spending time just enjoying a novel. 

“Up the coast?” It was only proper, as she was hosting her friend, and Regina had risked much to help her with the spell. 

Regina grinned. “A race, then?” 

Belle rolled her eyes, a laugh bubbling inside of her chest. “Like there’s even a competition to speak of. We both know you’d wipe the floor with me.” 

“We’ll invite Robin, and your little mouse. Robin actually can give me a run for my money. It will make it interesting.” 

“I don’t know if Rumple even enjoys horseback riding.” 

“Don’t be silly. Who wouldn’t enjoy it?” 

~~~~0~~~~

Rumples shuffled nervously, as he watched the stable hand prepare the horses.

His mistress had insisted that the mare he was to ride, Summer Sky, was as docile and sweet as could be. 

It didn’t bring him any comfort. And he was ashamed to admit to her that he’d never ridden before. It would simply be highlighting another shortcoming. 

His mistress was fetchingly clothed in thin, soft brown leggings, a long cream colored lawn shirt, and a wide brown leather belt, and buttery golden leather boots that nearly went all the way to her knees, with flat soles. Her russet curls were styled into a loose tail, and he didn’t think she could look more beautiful if she tried. 

He’d been unsure of proper riding attire, so he’d dressed himself in one of the pairs of slacks and a button down checked shirt. He felt a bit silly, when Regina and Robin were clothed similarly to Belle, though Regina’s outfit contained a bit more tight-fitting leather in dark colors. But his mistress had simply smiled at him, and introduced him to the gentle, white and brown spotted mare that was currently having a saddle strapped to it. 

“An afternoon ride up the coast is just what we need, to lighten our mood.” His mistress insisted. 

He doubted that. 

Regina’s ever watchful, sharp gaze had followed him around, and he knew he wasn’t fooling her. 

Which was why her wide, scarlet smile worried him so. 

Belle herself was already astride the tall, chestnut colored Clydesdale with the golden mane and tale, that she’d had for more years then she could count, as she’d told him earlier. His name was Philippe, and he’d nuzzled her the minute Belle had walked up to his stall. 

“Are you ready, sir?” He looked to the stable hand, a red-haired, bespectacled young man, maybe six or seven years younger than him, who Belle had introduced as ‘Jiminy.’ 

“I…yes.” He nervously glanced around, to see Regina and Robin each astride their own horses already. They were all waiting on him. 

Jiminy helped him up, and he struggled, awkwardly, as he sat in the unfamiliar saddle. The beast was calm and motionless beneath him, but that didn’t stop the panic. 

Jiminy handed him the reigns, and he stared down at them, clueless. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Rumple?” Belle look concerned, as if she were having second thoughts. 

He nodded quickly, not wanting to risk disappointing her. 

“Just press your heels gently against her sides, and use the reigns to guide her.” Jiminy quietly advised. “Pull back to make her stop.” 

He nodded quickly, shooting the man a grateful look, before he did as told, and gently pressed his heels into the mar’s sides. 

The motion was unfamiliar, as the horse began to trot out of the barn behind the other three, and for a moment, he worried he would get motion sickness, but it passed quickly enough. 

Regina was leading them, and Belle slowed her horse a bit, to try and match his pace. 

“Everything okay?” She was clearly worries. “If you don’t enjoy riding, Rumple, I wish you would let me know. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

He fought a grimace. He didn’t know if he enjoyed it. He’d never done it before!

Neither of them noticed Regina’s mischievous glance, or the tiny twitch of her fingers. 

And so neither one expected it when Rumple’s gentle mare reared up, and letting out a startled whinny, began racing down the path headed to the beach. 

He panicked, and leaned forward, clinging to the beast’s neck, trying to make it stop by pulling back on the reigns as Jiminy had advised. 

“RUMPLE!” Belle shrieked. 

Regina let out a tiny snigger, and Robin shot her a suspicious look. 

“Best go rescue your little mouse, Belle!” Regina advised in a musical tone. 

Belle glared at her, but encouraged Philippe into a run to chase after her Dark One. 

Robin glared. “Why did you do that?” 

Regina slowed her stallion’s pace to trot beside her husband. 

“What!? It’s romantic! Remember when I saved you from your runaway horse?” 

Robin rolled his eyes. “I’ll remind you I didn’t need saving. I had things well under control.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, lover.” She laughed, and sent her stallion into a canter, in the opposite direction down the beach from Belle and Rumple. 

Robin looked indecisive for a moment, but figured Lady Belle had everything well-in-hand, and guided his horse to follow his wife. 

She could be such a trouble maker sometimes. 

~~~~0~~~~

Belle chased after Rumple, fear clawing at her throat. 

She could see him, up ahead, clinging to the horse’s neck, his face turned away, his eyes clenched shut. 

“Rumple!” She shouted. “Hi-yah! Let’s go, Philippe!” She urged her horse, as he picked up speed. “I’m coming, Rumple!” 

His teeth were clenched, and he looked so afraid, as she came up beside him, that it nearly broke her heart. 

“Rumple! Give me the reigns!” She shouted over the wind. 

He cracked one eye open, but seemed frozen in his fear. 

She leaned over as far as she dared, and pried the leather reigns from his clenched fingers. 

“Summer Sky!” She tried to grab the mare’s attention. When this failed to work she nudged Philippe closer to the panicking mare, and leaned out as far she could to pry the reigns from Rumple’s fingers. 

With a combination of gentle shushing, and tugging appropriately on the reigns, the mare finally began to slow to a canter. 

Within a few minutes, she pulled Philippe to a halt beside the panting, skittish Summer Sky. Her Clydesdale snuffled the painted mare, trying to ease her, while she reached over, lacing her hand tightly with Rumple’s stiff fingers. 

He looked a bit green, like he’d be sick at any moment. 

“Oh Rumple. Are you alright?” 

He blinked, and then let out a soft gasp. 

“I thought…she was a gentle mare.” 

Belle’s heart broke for him.

“I’m so sorry, Rumple. Something must have scared her. She never usually acts like that…” 

He hung his head. “Maybe it’s just me. She senses the darkness of my curse.” He muttered. 

“That’s not true, Rumple.” Belle insisted. She tugged gently on his hand. “Come, ride back with me.” 

He was reluctant. “Philippe will only get frightened as well, and that will put you in danger.” 

“Nonsense.” She smiled kindly. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.” 

Philippe was close enough that, with some awkward maneuvering, Rumple was soon sitting behind her in Phillippe’s large saddle. 

“Now hold on tight.” She encouraged. 

He gulped, and stared down at the sleek curve of her waist, his hands shaking slightly as he considered whether or not he was actually worthy of touching her. 

“Rumple?” 

Hearing the warm concern in her voice was a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. 

While fully aware that, due to the curse, he couldn’t die; the wild race up the shore by horseback had frightened him. 

‘Coward.’ That dark inner voice reared up again, in its sneering, mocking tone. 

He shook it away. He could brood about his endless list of faults later. Right now he had to be vigilant…if this horse acted up like the other one, he needed to protect his mistress.

Tentatively he set his hands down on his mistresses’ waist, suppressing the shiver that wanted to run down his spine. 

Oh, but her curves felt nice. 

“Rest your chin on my shoulder, Rumple. I can feel you shaking still. It will be alright. I’ll walk Phillippe back up shore. Nice and slow.” She said gently. 

Despite the voices inside of him telling him not to fall for it; surely she’d be cruel and push him off, or send the horse into a full-out run to scare him again, he allowed himself to lean against her, and rest his chin on the soft base of her shoulder. 

Surprisingly, the tension drained out of him, and as she gently encouraged the giant beast beneath them into a slow walk, he felt his eyes slipping closed, as the smell of her hair permeated his senses. 

“Rumple, when I asked you if you wanted to go riding, you didn’t have to say yes, you know. If you aren’t comfortable doing something, then just tell me. I don’t want you to be forced to do anything you don’t want to.” She said softly. 

At some point, and he wasn’t sure when, his hands had moved from resting at her waist, to looping his arms around her, and her free hand was resting gently on top of his, her fingers gently stroking his. 

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” He murmured, his tongue looser then it normally was, due to his unusual level of comfort. 

“You wouldn’t disappoint me. We could have had a private lesson, if you wanted, just you and I, without the added pressure of Robin and Regina’s presence. Or we could have done something else. Like read in the library.” 

He actually quirked a small smile. He did enjoy when she read to him in the library…she usually made him practice his letters first, and then would read to him as a reward. He did so enjoy the sound of her soft voice, that changed as she read the different characters. She read with such passion, such utter enjoyment. 

“It will take me time, my lady, to adjust to this new…freedom you’ve allowed me. I’ve been a slave to the will of others for nearly my entire life.” 

“Oh my poor Rumple.” She whispered, her fingers softly sliding up and down his forearm in a soothing motion. “I wish I had found you long ago…” 

He found himself wishing it too. Oh, but he enjoyed her gentle ways of trying to soothe him. Her soft, cooing voice, and her delicate touches that always tried to heal, never to hurt. 

No one had ever treated him like that. 

“When we get back, shall we have some tea and read for a bit?” She asked quietly. 

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. 

If he did, he might just blurt out the terrible secret he’d felt building up inside of him. 

That he was beginning to adore her. 

And that, in itself, was a dangerous thing. 

Because this happiness with her was bound to end. It couldn’t last forever. Things like that…they just didn’t work out for him. 

They never had. Happiness never lasted. 

And everyone, eventually, left him. 

~~~~0~~~~

To be Continued~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was getting my packing done for my vacation, and I decided that my highest priority needed to be to finish this chapter I've been procrastinating over for a month and a half. So here it is! Thank you for all the continued support!

~Chapter 9~

 

In the weeks following Regina and Robin’s visit, Rumple and Belle grew closer. It was now mid-June, and the heat was reaching its peak in Seaview.

 

Belle wore knee-length dresses and skirts, and sometimes when they went to the beach, little denim shorts that bared so much of the creamy skin of her pretty legs, Rumple was hard-pressed to keep his eyes on her face…something that had never been a problem for him before.

 

He’d only every looked upon women’s figures with fear and intimidation; never once in appreciation. The emotions that rose up inside of him were confusing, frankly, and a bit terrifying.

 

And it wasn’t just her beauty, or her lovely, shapely legs. It was her kindness. Her warmth. The way her eyes brightened when she read something new and interesting, or spoke of her favorite book. It was the way every one of her household staff clearly adored her. Even the village residents seemed smitten with her. It was the way she laughed, and if she found something funny enough, the way a snort would slip free amidst her giggles.

 

It was the way she was absolutely determined to be as gentle as possible with him. And to convince him that he was worth more than he actually was.

 

Pseudo-freedom or not, he was not worthy of the affection his mistress already bestowed upon him. He certainly had no right to hope for more.

 

He sighed, and stared down at the lines of the reader she’d given him to study. He’d mastered his alphabet, and was even a dab-hand at writing out the letters…but using them to form words, and then sentences, was still a bit trying for him. He couldn’t imagine venturing into the higher levels of learning that Lady Belle had described with rapture. Things like grammar, structure, and research.

 

He was sweating just thinking about it.

 

Lady Belle insisted he was bright, and it would all come to him in time. He wasn’t so certain.

 

He was sitting in his spot in the garden, escaping from the morning sun’s oppressive heat, trying to get through the reader his mistress had assigned to him nearly three days ago.

 

He sighed in frustration, remembering she’d mentioned that the reader was at a 2nd grade level. She’d smiled so brightly when she’d said it, and mentioned she was so proud he was progressing so quickly.

 

He only saw the shame in it. He would have been seven, in the second grade. Right around the time he’d been sold to Blue. By all rights, he should have already been able to read at this level, had he attended primary as he should have.

 

He wasn’t alone, Belle insisted. Many young boys weren’t put into formal schooling, particularly ones from poorer families. If anyone went to school, among the poorer classes, it was usually daughters. Daughters, at least, had more opportunity to turn education into a successful career of sorts.

 

She’d sounded so disapproving when she’d said it, that his heart couldn’t help but love her, a little bit. Mistress Belle genuinely _cared_ about the inequalities and injustices between genders. And she was so educated, and passionate.

 

No matter her protests, he knew she’d make a wonderful Regent for the Marchlands. They’d be privileged to have her as their ruler.

 

He felt a familiar sharp-eyed gaze watching him, and glanced up to meet Granny’s intense blue eyes…only to blink in surprise.

 

The sharp-eyed gaze was familiar, though green instead of blue. A leggy brunette was watching him, her arms folded over her chest, one brow arched, a curious look on her face.

 

Interestingly enough, she had a few wild bright streaks of crimson in her long wavy locks, and she wore a lot of red clothing. A short-sleeved, red leather cropped jacket was over a dark gray t-shirt that stopped just above her navel. A pair of denim shorts, much shorter than the ones Belle favored, showed off long slender legs, and a pair of ankle-length leather red high-heeled boots topped the look off. She also wore a tone of silver and red jewelry, multiple necklaces roped her slender neck, bangles jingled up and down her arms, and a red jewel glittered at her exposed navel. Her ears were also rimmed in silver, up and down the entire length.

 

She gave him a smile, but her mouth was filled with sharp, blinding white teeth that made her look all the more ferocious.

 

All in all, she was intimidating as hell, and Rumple shrunk back into the shadows around him, suddenly very nervous.

 

“Hey.” She walked closer to him, but stopped when he leapt to his feet and scrambled back against the wall, an irrational fear swallowing him.

 

“Woah. Chill, man. It’s okay. My name’s Red Lucas. I’m Granny’s granddaughter. I just wanted to introduce myself.” She held her hands up, palms out, fingers spread, a twitch in her brow.

 

There was concern in her sharp green eyes.

 

Her words penetrated his panic.

 

Red Lucas. Granny’s college-age granddaughter. She attended Belle’s alma mater, he remembered his mistress saying. (And wasn’t it strange that he now lived a life where he knew what an alma mater even _is_? His mistress had smiled so sweetly and explained the confusing word to him when he’d looked at her funny.)

 

He vaguely recalled Granny and Belle discussing her imminent arrival to the Palace, as her classes let out for the summer. Belle had spoken of her with fondness. ‘I graduated by the time she entered University, but I arranged for one of my underclassmen friends, Dorothy, to be her Sponsor.’

 

“I…I’m sorry.” He choked out, trying to breathe deeply and relax his racing mind.

 

He supposed she had no interest in hurting him, if she truly was Red Lucas, but she had such an intimidating and dominant presence that he’d fallen back on ingrained habits when it came to powerful women.

 

“It’s okay. I guess I shouldn’t have startled you. Rumplestiltskin, right? Granny said you were a bit timid. I just saw you sitting here and thought I would say hi. I just got in late last night. I’ll be here for the summer.”

 

He nodded slowly, trying to find the courage to form words.

 

“N-n-nice to m-meet you.” He forced out.

 

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching. Why did he have the feeling she could read his entire soul with one sharp, piercing gaze?

 

And what was it that was sending his cursed senses tingling? She wasn’t your normal, average college student, that was certain. Whatever it was, Granny had it too…not as strong, almost faded a bit, but it was there, all the same. It was why the woman still made him so nervous.

 

“Belle mentioned she was teaching you to read?”

 

He nodded, holding up his reader for her to see. She made a face.

 

“I always hated those things. But if you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m a science major, myself, never was a huge fan of English and Literature the way Belle is, but Belle helped teach me to read when we were young, so I’ve got a few pointers if you need them.”

 

“Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed slightly.

 

She continued to study him curiously. 

 

“Rumple? Oh, Red!” They both glanced around to see Belle walking up to them, a pretty blue dress swishing at her knees. Rumple liked her best in blue. It brought out her eyes, and the color soothed him. “I see you two have met! I’m so glad!” She beamed.

 

“Guess what!?” She seemed extra-bubbly this morning. “Pongo and Perdita’s puppies were finally born! Shall we go down to the village and see them!?”

 

Red’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

 

“Then maybe we’ll have lunch at the bistro. It’s such a lovely day, I thought it would be nice for us to get out of the house.” She glanced at Rumple. “Would you like to come, Rumple?”

 

His natural instinct was to say no. Belle occasionally asked him to come down with her to the village, and he rarely went. He was growing used to the staff who lived and served in the palace. But the busy, crowded hamlet of Seaview still made him extremely uncomfortable.

 

Everyone was just so _pleasant_. It almost seemed false. People _smiled_ at him, and were starting to greet him by name…at least the few that he would raise his eyes high enough to meet their gaze.

 

Being treated like a human being was freaking him out.

 

But then, he’d always been fond of dogs. He’d had a ragged little stray whom he’d feed, back in his days with Mistress Milah, and who would curl up with him on warm nights beneath the stars. The ratty looking mutt, who would scamper off the minute he heard Milah’s shrill voice but always returned when she left to the tavern, had been one of two bright spots in his grim life with her.

 

And oh how his boy had crawled around, chasing after the mutt who happily indulged him, once he’d learned to crawl.

 

But that was too painful to think about, so as usual, Rumple buried it.

 

Mistress Cora had bred dogs, fine purebreds that were used for show. She’d had to sell them off in the end, but Rumple had been responsible for cleaning them. They weren’t as friendly and adoring as his little stray had been, but they’d sit beside him in the kitchens by the fireplace, and warm him. One of them had even let him cling to its neck for comfort, after a particularly bad day with Cora.

 

So he found himself nodding, a bit reluctantly, and soon enough they were taking a walk down to the village. ‘It’s to lovely of a day to take the car. A rare morning, when it’s hot out, but not so hot that we can’t breathe.’ Belle had insisted.

 

Belle and Red had looped arms, and were chatting happily about Uni, professors and classes and homework. Rumple trailed them, listening with half an ear, but diligently watching their surroundings as well, as he did when Belle insisted on walking places.

 

His curse may be temporarily bound up, but he was still responsible for his mistress’ safety.

 

They by-passed the pharmacy, which surprised him as that was run by Anita and her husband, the jovial Roger.

 

Rumple wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he liked Anita and Roger. Anita was genuinely kind, like Belle, and Roger was affable and didn’t try to overwhelm Rumplestiltskin, as some Free Men tended to do, questioning him about the Curse, and Reul Ghorm, and his enslavement. In fact, Roger never brought up his life as a Dark One once. And he never tried to slap a hand on Rumple’s shoulder or back, as many male villagers attempted.

 

About a mile past the pharmacy, they entered into the little maze of residential streets, and Belle led them up to a little saltbox cottage, painted light pink with white shutters, and a cheery set of garden gnomes flanked either side of the door. The mailbox was white, painted with black spots.

 

Belle knocked, and a symphony of barks rang through the halls.

 

A smiling Roger answered the door, restraining Pongo, who was happily lunging for them, his tongue lolling out.  

 

“Down, boy! Hello, milady! What a surprise!”

 

She beamed. “Jiminy mentioned that Perdita had the puppies a few days ago! Do you mind a visit?”

 

“Not at all! Come in, come in! Hullo, Rumplestiltskin! And who’s this, then?”

 

“Hi, I’m Red Lucas.” Red held out a hand, and Roger shook it, giving her a grin.

 

“Well, that’s just fine. Granny’s made herself well-known around town, and she’s had quite a bit to say about you. She’s very proud of you, you know.”

 

Red actually looked abashed.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“And we’re quite happy to have her about, I’ll say that. Ever since she took over cooking at the tavern, Anita and I eat there several times a week.”

 

Red and Belle laughed.

 

A few weeks ago, Granny had decided she’d had just about enough being ‘pampered’ by Mrs. Potts and Belle, who’d insisted she take more time to recover before she take up any duties around the manor. She’d hiked it down to the village, and sought out something to keep her busy.

 

She’d happened on a position cooking for the lunch and dinner time rush at the Seaview Tavern and Inn, as the head cook had recently set out for Ulbany when a job opportunity had opened up in the King Leopold’s Summer Palace. She’d taken the job immediately, and seemed to be a hit among the villagers.

 

“Come along, then. The puppies just finished feeding. They’ll be sleepy and content, and full of snuggles to give.”

 

They followed Roger through the cottage, noticed it seemed packed to the brim with odds and ends. It was cheerfully cluttered, and Rumple felt surprisingly comfortable there.

 

Anita was obviously running the pharmacy, but as they followed Pongo, who excitedly trotted into the living room. Perdita looked up, sleepily, and gave a soft ‘woof’ of greeting.

 

Surrounding her, were approximately fifteen puppies. They were all pure white, save for one, who bore a single black patch.

 

“Oh they’re lovely!” Belle exclaimed.

 

Ruby wore a huge grin, as she immediately dropped down onto her haunches, and glancing at Perdita for permission, picked up the wiggliest among the puppies.

 

Many of the puppies squirmed towards her, having apparently caught a scent they enjoyed, and Perdita just blinked sleepy eyes in consent.

 

“Their eyes won’t open for another week or so, but for some reason, they must really love the way you smell!” Roger exclaimed, and Ruby laughed with glinting, knowing eyes.

 

“I guess I just have an aura that attracts them. I love dogs.” She nuzzled the fat puppy in her arms. He was definitely the pudgiest puppy of the litter.

 

Rumple stood in the background, just watching curiously, admiring the puppies in silence.

 

He didn’t notice, at first, that one of the smaller puppies had wiggled it’s way over to him, and was resting at his feet, it’s chin propped onto the toe of his boot.

 

But Belle did, and holding a sleepy puppy of her own, she moved closer to him.

 

“It looks like you found a friend.” She whispered.

 

Rumple glanced down in surprise, to see the contended puppy napping, curled against his foot.

 

His chest tightened in what he could only describe as…happiness.

 

“She’s cute.” He admitted.

 

“She seems fond of you.”

 

He bent, and picked up the puppy gently, and it curled against his chest, huffing softly, and giving a sleepy yawn.

 

She was cute. Rumple couldn’t fight the tiny smile that crept onto his face.

 

Belle watched this with a wide, fond smile.

 

She glanced over at Roger, who was watching the pair curiously.

 

He met her gaze, and nodded, a smile twitching at his lips as well.

 

He nodded slowly, and Belle beamed.

 

~~~~~0~~~~~

 

“Hold still, now, milady. I don’t want to accidently stab you with the needle.” Madame Bouche instructed crisply, as she bustled her shapely form around the Belle, who was perched in nothing more than her undergarments and a slip on top of an ottoman.

 

Belle had never had much patience for dress-fittings, but the Marchlands annual Rose Ball called for nothing less than a new, fabulous dress, and Madame Bouche was not known as the most-sought after designer for nothing.

 

“So, who _will_ escort you to the ball, milady, now that your engagement has been cancelled?” Madame Bouche, nosy as ever, spoke around her pins and measuring tape. “Bit thinner this year, dear. A child in your belly would round out those curves just right.” She muttered to herself, though Belle knew she was intended to hear.

 

“I plan to bring my Dark One, if he should like to go.”

 

Madame Bouche blinked in surprise, but kept her opinion to herself.

 

“Bit of a mouse, that one. And speaking of thin…”

 

Belle rolled her eyes. “He’s been abused nearly his whole life, Madame. I’m working on helping him come out of his shell.”

 

Madame Bouche’s eyes softened. “You always did have a heart of gold, child.” 

 

Belle smiled.

 

“So what color are we thinking?”

 

“I bought Rumple a fine suit in dark gray, with a plum waistcoat. It’s just lovely. I’d like to dress to match.”

 

“Fortunate for you, plum is very hot right now. With metallic gray accents? I’m already picturing it in my head.” Madame Bouche went off, and soon enough, Belle was able to get down, and re-dress. The designer promised to have the dress ready to go in two weeks, right before it was time to head to Avonlea.

 

Belle sighed, deciding to lounge around in her rooms in her slip for a while, enjoying the cool air her ceiling fan was circulating.

 

She pondered the conversation she’d had with Anita and Roger, the day after they’d gone to meet the puppies. She wouldn’t soon forget Rumple’s adorable reluctance to put the tiny female puppy in his arms down.

 

Belle had, after having a small meeting with Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, and Lumiere, graciously asked Roger and Perdita if they would consider selling the pup to her when she was weened and ready to be away from her mother. It would be about seven weeks still, until that time, but Belle was hoping to claim that particular puppy.

 

Anita immediately insisted that the pup would be a gift, to the Palace, a sign of their patronage to their future Regent. Belle had tried to object, she knew that Dalmatian pups could fetch a heavy price, if the breeder wanted. And that was just for pets. If they were breeding show dogs, they could go for even more. But Anita had batted that aside. Perdita’s pregnancy hadn’t been planned, and they didn’t plan to sell off the puppies for exorbitant prices. They’d sell most of them, of course. Who could possibly hope to house and feed seventeen large dogs? But they’d keep one or two pups to stay with their parents, and then find loving homes for the rest.

 

Anita had shared that they hoped to re-home as many of them right here in the village as possible. There wasn’t a large population of canine companions in Seaview, and they’d had a few inquiries about the pups already by their neighbors and friends.

 

‘That way Perdita and Pongo can see them, still.’ Roger had added.

 

But the tiniest female pup, she would be for Rumple.

 

‘Do you think he’d like to pick out a name, so we can start using it?’ Anita had asked.

 

Belle had mused about that for a while. She’d rather surprise Rumple with the pup. But what about a name?

 

Something simple, but cute. Rumple would like that. She could imagine that if she were to ask him his opinion, he’d get flustered, and overwhelmed, and shut-down.

 

‘Penny.’ She’d decided, and Anita and Roger had both beamed.

 

Yes, she was pretty certain the Penny would be a fine companion for Rumple. She’d read something in one of her books that she’d bought, to try and understand and help Rumple, about therapy dogs being an effective way of helping abuse victims. Now of course, she’d have to hire a trainer for Penny. But the idea definitely had merit.

 

She sighed, and relaxed on her chaise lounge, eyes slipping closed for a few moments.

 

She’d been revising and reviewing the yearly taxes paid by the Marchlands to the Blue Fairy, on behalf of her father. She was duly impressed by the effort and organization of the documents, flawlessly prepared by this Mrs. Hawkins, who’d found tax breaks and loop halls Granny and her father combined, had never even imagined.

 

But reading through hours and hours’ worth of boring legalities and financial documentation had strained even her love for the written word, and she’d cancelled Rumple’s lesson for the day, encouraging him to spend the hours they’d normally spend in the library, doing whatever he pleased.

 

Rumple had become to very dear to her, in such a short amount of time. He’d been with her for over a month now, and every day had been a new, special adventure, watching him bloom, inch by tiny inch.

 

He smiled at her more willingly now. Maybe not as often as she’d hoped, but enough that her heart would give off tiny flutters every time, (and _that_ was an aspect she was nowhere near prepared to thoroughly examine about herself).

 

Her poor, damaged Dark One. The last thing he needed was his mistress _lusting_ after him.

 

He hadn’t opened up enough with her yet to discuss his previous mistresses, and she in no way wanted to push him. But she had a horrible, sinking feeling that, any romantic feelings she might possibly feel for the timid, broken man would probably be returned with horror, and fear.

 

She sighed.

 

What had she gotten herself into? For the first time, she was beginning to truly understand how Regina and Snow had fallen in love with their Dark Ones. A month ago, she’d never imagined it possible for herself, developing feelings for a human being that was bound and enslaved to your will.

 

Rumple was nothing like Charming, or even Robin…and yet, he had a uniqueness about him that drew her in.

 

And she desperately wanted to understand the cloud of sorrow that surrounded him. She wanted to know the dark details of his past so she could help him heal, but she also didn’t want to push him.

 

Turning on her side, she allowed herself to relax.

 

It wouldn’t hurt to have a nap.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

_“WOULD YOU SHUT THAT SQUALLING BRAT UP!?”_

_Rumple felt panic fill his chest, as he cradled the infant to his chest, gently shushing him._

_He’d tried to keep Bae quiet, he really had. But the babe was hungry, and sometimes the goats milk that he fed him just didn’t cut it._

_And Mistress Milah had refused to feed the babe at her breast from the moment he was born. Now five months later, and he was sure she wasn’t even making milk anymore. She’d been to the midwife, to buy some herb to help her dry up faster._

_‘You wanted that noisy little burden so badly, you’d best find a way to feed it.’ She’d snapped at him, a few hours after the babe had been born. ‘Should have done away with him when I first found out, as I wanted to do. I just knew it would be a boy.’ She’d grumbled. _

_Maybe, had Bae been a girl, Milah would have at least been willing to feed him._

_He’d tried to mix in a bit of rice gruel with the milk, hoping it might fill his boy’s belly a bit more. But Bae hadn’t tolerated it well, and had spit it back up._

_“Shh, shh…come now, m’boy. You’ve woken your mum up, and that won’t do.” He murmured, as he curled closer to the fireplace, where a tiny portion of the embers were still warm._

_He felt eyes on him, and glanced up to see sneering blue eyes staring down at them from across the room._

_“If you can’t keep him quiet, at least take him outside where he won’t disturb my sleep.” She hissed._

_“M..mistress, it’s winter! Bae will freeze!”_

_She glared at him, and turned on her heel, muttering about them both being ‘more trouble than they were worth.’_

_The small sack of coins she kept by her bedside came flying towards him. There wasn’t much there. She’d spent last night gambling away most of the profit he’d made at the market._

_“Go buy some formula then. Whatever it takes to get some damn peace and quiet in this house!” She shouted, and then the door to the only separate room in their little shack slammed shut._

_Feeling pathetically, he double bundled the child up, and fitted him into the sling he’d stitched together to carry Bae around in when he was at market, or tending the sheep._

_He knew the closest grocer wouldn’t be open for a half hour yet, it was only half-past seven, but it was a twenty-minute walk anyways, and walking sometimes helped calm his fussy babe._

_It was a cold, miserable existence that he’d begged his mistress to allow their child to come into, but at least he would have his father’s un-ending love and adoration._

_He couldn’t know, at that time, that plans were already in motion to destroy the one good thing he’d ever had in his life._

_In a matter of months, the child cradled against him, a child conceived by pure accident, to his mother’s ultimate disgust and his father’s rapture, would be ripped away from him forever._

_Dark blue eyes followed him as he scurried from the house._

_Milah turned away from the window, and bundled up in her own coat._

_Killian’s boat would be in this morning. She planned to spend as much time with him as she could, during his short shore leave._

_Soon his naval contract would end, and she would be free to join him. He’d saved up enough to buy a small boat of his own, and he planned to sail the seas, seeking adventure and wealth._

_And she planned to be with him._

_First, though, she would have to get rid of two clinging dead weights that were pulling her under._

_Getting rid of the Dark one would be easy enough. But she’d have to make plans for the boy._

_She may not have even a hint of affection for the scrawny little whelp who’d disturbed too many of her nights, and mornings, of sleep, but even she wasn’t such a monster that she’d sell an infant to Reul Ghorm._

_Maybe if the boy had been a teenager, she wouldn’t feel as guilty. But no…not a baby._

_No. She would have to make…other arrangements._

 

Rumple woke up, unexpectedly sobbing.

 

He hadn’t dreamt of Bae for a while now. He usually kept thoughts of him locked up as tight as he could, buried deep in his heart. It was too painful to do otherwise.

 

He took in a few deep, gasping breaths, and furiously wiped away his tears.

 

Oh his **_boy_**. How could he have let this happen? How could he have let him slip away?

 

He felt sick and even the smell of the tea tray, left no doubt by reliable-as-the-sun Mrs. Potts, made his stomach turn.

 

He’d **promised** his Baelfire, on the day he was born, that he’d always protect and love him!

 

He’d had no right to promise that, he knew, for his life was not his own to promise.

 

But all the same.

 

He sobbed brokenly into his hands, unable to control his emotional reaction to the dream. It had been so long since he’d let himself cry over Bae.

 

He was helpless, drowning in his grief.

 

He was so lost in his tears, and the black whole of sorrow that was consuming him, that he never heard the persistent knocking on the door that connected his room to his mistresses.

 

Finally, the door flew open, and his mistress rushed in, looking alarmed.

 

“Oh Rumple!” She cried softly, immediately climbing atop his bed, uncaring that she only wore her nightclothes.

 

Her arms slid around him, and she gently pillowed his face against her shoulder, as she embraced his trembling body.

 

With his distress as overwhelming as it was, all he could do was ignore the lack of space that would normally set him on edge, bury his face against the soft, lightly fragrant skin of his mistress’ shoulder, and let himself cry it out. Every once in a while, a strangled ‘Bae…Bae…’ would escape his lips.

 

Her brow would crease, and she would turn the word over and over in her mind, but she didn’t ask him about it.

 

She was warm, and soft, and he felt all the sorrow that had been locked away for four years now, bubble over the dam it had been walled behind, and spill over.

 

She held him the entire time, softly humming and crooning, her fingers running gently through his hair, and making soothing circles on his back, as he imagined a mother would.

 

It was sunrise, when he felt his overwhelming sorrow finally begin to abate, and emotionally exhausted, he fell back into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

 

And his mistress covered him up, used a warm wet cloth to dry his tear stained cheeks, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

 

He slept for the entire day.

 

~~~~0~~~~

 

Belle leaned against the balcony railing in her suite, watching the sinking sun.

 

Her thoughts were turbulent.

 

What horrors had Rumple seen during his enslavement?

 

His wretched sobbing echoed in her ears still, and a few tears of her own slipped free.

 

How could she help him if he didn’t open up? And how could she push him to open up, when it obviously hurt him so much?

 

And who…who was Bae?

 

~To be Continued~

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always considered the Blue Fairy to be a lot less virtuous then the show lets on. Like many OUAT fans, I’ve often pondered her shadier actions, and if maybe, she’s a little more evil then A&E want to admit. So for the purpose of THIS story, I’ve turned her into a villain. Hope no one’s offended…but if you are, this story might not be for you.  
> Also…I have a deep and undying love for Rumplestiltskin. He’s definitely the best character in the show, and I love him in all forms…Dark One, Asshole Mr. Gold, AU Asshole Mr. Gold…but I have a special place in my heart for Spinner!Rum, and Woobie!Rum…which is like the same thing, but whatever. Anyways, it’s like…my ultimate fantasy to stumble on a secrete cache FULL of Spinner!Rum and Belle fics…I think I’ve read every one I could come across… Anyways, all my Rumbelle feels inspired this story, which has been kicking around in my head in a rudimentary fashion for a while anyways.  
> Also, just to clear it up, when I picture a futuristic Enchanted Forest, I kind of picture a blend of FTL and Storybrooke. A mix of the old world and the new…a higher level of technology, blended with a world of magic, and mixed with an almost feudal and yet progressive mind-set. I kind of think of David’s speech from Season Two…We are Both. So that’s what I picture for my futuristic Enchanted Forest…if it seems a little weird, just go with it!


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